


Rock Me

by ludeans



Category: Reylo - Fandom, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Musician Ben Solo, Musicians, Rockband
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28810020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ludeans/pseuds/ludeans
Summary: ❝Being famous comes with a lot of downsides. You are followed at every turn, are almost constantly exposed to stress and pressure situations. The media spreads rumors, there's a lot of talk. Sometimes I would just like to end my career and leave public life behind forever. But when I'm on stage and see my fans who can sing along to every one of my songs, I remember what I'm doing all this for. Because I want to reach out to other people with my lyrics and let them know that they are not alone. That there is someone out there who feels just as lost. I want to give them hope. And when I can see that very hope in the eyes of the audience, I know again that it's worth it.❞─ B e n  S o l o
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Reylo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> This is the first time I'm translating one of my fanfics to english. English isn't my native language, so please don't be too hard on me. Anyways... I hope you'll enjoy the story! c:  
> (The first chapter is the prologue. That's why it's so short.)

**THE FIRST ORDER SINGER ALLEGEDLY PUNCHED MAN IN THE FACE**

_Over the weekend, rock band The First Order played in front of 70,000 fans at Hard Rock Stadium in Miami. After the performance, singer Ben Solo (aka Kylo Ren) allegedly got physical._

**REPORT OF ASSAULT**

_Police say a 911 call was received at 2:50 a.m. Saturday from the CIRC Hotel about an assault offense. Two patrols drove to the hotel. A 34-year-old Coral Gables man, who appeared to be injured in the face, filed a criminal complaint against a "30-year-old Miami Springs musician," police said._

_According to the police, the injured party and an uninvolved witness were able to precisely describe the identity of the accused, who is said to be The First Order frontman Ben Solo (aka Kylo Ren). He had been sitting at the hotel bar with a companion that is said to have been insulted by the man from Coral Gables. Thereupon, the situation escalated and The First Order singer hit the 34-year-old in the face with his elbow._

_Police did not comment on the severity of the injuries._

_After an hour, the officers had left the hotel again. The musician is still being investigated on charges of simple assault._

**MUSICIAN WAS NO LONGER ON THE SCENE WHEN OFFICERS ARRIVED**

_As police added around noon, the 30-year-old Miami Springs musician suspected of the crime was no longer on the scene when officers arrived at the hotel._

_Thus, only the 34-year-old victim was questioned._

_Accordingly, the police will contact the suspect, the statement said._


	2. Chapter 2

"Miss Niima? A word." 

Jane Parker gave me an intense look before turning on her heel and heading straight to her office. 

With a soft sigh, I rolled my chair back a little so I could stand up and forced myself to dig in at my boss's heels. The last thing I caught sight of before Miss Parker let the door fall into the lock behind us were the pitying looks of my colleagues. 

"Have a seat," the petite woman said in my direction, pointing her lacquered fingernail at the small leather chairs immediately in front of her huge desk.

As I followed her request, she stalked past me to settle into her bulky chair. 

"I assume you know what this is about?" she began, giving me a wait-and-see look. 

I nodded wordlessly and put my lower lip between my teeth. 

"Good, I hope you realize that I could have fired you for that slip." She fell silent and let her stern brown eyes wander over the papers spread out on the table. "You got this cover story because you've always done an excellent job so far. And because I thought you could do it," she continued, raising her eyes to look at me. 

"I...", I started, but was immediately interrupted by her voice again. 

"Miss Niima. There will always be people who don't like your way of writing. Likewise, there will always be critics who pick apart your work - whether it's articles, reports, or entire books. You have to be able to deal with that kind of thing, otherwise I'm afraid you've chosen the wrong profession." 

My boss pushed a strand of hair that had slipped out of her ponytail behind her ear before speaking again. "You see, it's not only you who suffer from such mistakes, but also the reputation of the magazine and, consequently, its employees. Because a magazine cast in a bad light means fewer sales, which in turn will eventually lead to staff having to be laid off."

I gulped. "I am sincerely sorry that I lost my temper and got involved in this low-level online argument. I should have responded professionally."

My boss's expression softened a bit as she nodded, barely noticeably. "Fortunately, I managed to iron out your mistake and declare the whole thing a big misunderstanding, restoring Verified's good name."

"Thank you," I said meekly, interlacing my hands with each other. 

"And now to you." Her eyes bored into mine so deeply that it almost felt like she was probing my soul. "As I mentioned earlier, I could have dismissed you for this grave slip...but I won't."

The feeling of infinite relief spread inside me. 

"At least not yet," she added after a brief pause, which is why the relief instantly vanished into thin air and my heart suddenly hammered against my ribcage far too quickly. 

I wanted to say something back, but the thick lump that had spread in my throat wouldn't let a single word slip past my lips. 

"I will give you a second chance, Miss Niima. However, under two conditions."

Tensely, I hung on her red-painted lips. 

"First, you will publicly apologize to the critic for being out of tone because of the misunderstanding."

Even though everything inside me resisted giving this fiend a public apology, I gritted my teeth and nodded. 

"Second, I'm putting you on a cover story again, where the most important thing is the right tact in dealing with the public." 

Miss Parker rummaged through one of the many drawers in her desk until she found what she was looking for. She shoved a small stack of papers, which included a magazine, under my nose. 

"I want you to write a ten-page article about this rock band in the next few weeks," she opened it for me, pointing to the cover of the gossip magazine, which showed the four band members. "In doing so, you should focus especially on the singer, who has made a lot of negative headlines in the past few weeks." 

I picked up the magazine and frowned. "Since when did we become a gossip magazine?"

"Miss Niima. Verified is a very diverse magazine. I realize that this issue is very different from our previous ones, but we also deal with trends now, and The First Order is the most successful band in the world right now, so it's on everyone's lips."

My eyes slid over the magazine headline: _The First Order singer allegedly punched man in the face._

Sighing softly, I leaned back in the chair. 

"Think of this assignment as a kind of test. If you write a good article and prove that you can present yourself and our magazine well to the public - despite possible criticism - I will overlook your mistake. And if you don't, you'll have to look for a new job, willy-nilly." 

Miss Parker clasped her hands together. "Take this opportunity and don't waste your talent, Miss Niima. I wish you every success."

"Thank you, Miss Parker. I'll try my best," I replied truthfully, placing the magazine back on the pile so I could get my hands on it completely.

I then nodded again to my boss before turning to leave. 

My colleagues gave me many curious looks as I pulled the door into the lock behind me and made my way to my desk. 

There I was already awaited by Lauren Geller, one of my dearest colleagues. "So, what did she say?" she demanded to know with a tense expression. 

I motioned for her to let me by so I could place my new work material on the desk. "I have to publicly apologize to the critic. And she's commissioned me a new cover story," I answered her question, running a hand through my hair. 

Lauren's eyes got big. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Do you realize how lucky you actually are? Other workers lose their jobs immediately because of one mistake and you get your second cover story! So Jane Parker does have something like a heart," she gushed. 

I tried to stifle an eye roll. "If I were really that lucky, I wouldn't have to write my second cover story about some random band whose singer causes one scandal after another. Besides, I'm not on the safe side until the article is a success and I can prove to our boss that I represent the magazine well in the public eye."

"At least you can still write something at all. You should be happy you didn't get fired right away," she reprimanded me. 

Defensively, I raised my hands. "You're right, after all. Still, I really imagined my second cover story and its subject differently."

"What band is it about, anyway?"

I nodded in the direction of my desk, whereupon Lauren reached for the magazine and let her eyes glide over its cover. "The First Order. Never heard of it," she said, flipping open the gossip magazine. 

"According to Miss Parker, The First Order is the most successful rock band in the world right now," I remarked, crossing my arms in front of my chest. 

Lauren shrugged her shoulders before she began to read the article aloud. "Over the weekend, rock band The First Order played to 70,000 fans at Hard Rock Stadium in Miami. Before the performance, singer Ben Solo - aka Kylo Ren - reportedly got physical." She gave me a meaningful look. "Ouch."

Listlessly, I flopped down on my computer chair and rested my head on the tabletop. "Why didn't I just keep my mouth shut then and get into this stupid discussion with one of America's most famous critics instead?"

"You didn't expect it to degenerate like this, did you?"

"Still. I should have handled the situation much more professionally in the first place," I contradicted my friend.   
"It's too late for that now. You can't undo the past, unfortunately, Rey. But you can use this second chance to prove to Jane Parker and the world that you've learned from your mistakes."  
  
I raised my head. "You should be a motivational speaker."

Lauren lightly punched me in the shoulder and started laughing. "And you should get to work now. After all, a cover story like this doesn't write itself. I'll talk to you tomorrow," she said goodbye to me.

Sighing, I agreed with my friend and waved after her.

But before I turned my attention to the rock band and its four members, I first decided to go on Twitter to fulfill Jane Parker's first condition and publicly apologize to the critic. Against my will, I wrote a curt, yet professional apology and put my phone aside again after sending the tweet. 

Listlessly, I spread out the stack of papers I had received from my boss on my desk and started working my way through all the articles and reports. 

Along the way, I jotted down the most important information about the band on a scrap of paper.

The members of The First Oder were all Miami Springs natives and had played music together in high school. 

The lead singer, who went by the stage name Kylo Ren and was really Ben Solo, was the oldest at 30, having had to repeat two grades in school. When he was 13 years old, his parents had separated due to irreconcilable differences. Since he blamed his father for the separation, he had stayed with his mother. At the moment he was in a relationship with Maia Lee, four years younger than him, whom he had met during a shoot for one of the band's music videos. Due to his hotheadedness towards the press and pushy fans, he had already attracted negative attention several times and the scandal before the sold-out concert at the Hard Rock Stadium in Miami had even earned him an entry in the criminal record. 

The guitarist, whose real name was Scott Anderson, not only had a child, but also a long-standing drug problem. To combat this, he had been in treatment several times. In a new interview, he had revealed that he had not touched drugs in eight months. According to an insider, he and his fiancée were already expecting their second child.   
Nat Roberts, the only woman in the band, had halfway managed to keep her private life away from the public eye. The only known info was that she had taught drum lessons before joining the band. 

Jack Murphy, the bass player, originally had a great career ahead of him as an extreme athlete, but he had to give it up with a heavy heart due to a serious injury at the age of 22. Almost two years after the accident, he had rediscovered his passion for the bass guitar and, together with Ben Solo, formed the rock band The First Order, bringing positivity back into his life. He was known above all for leaving no stone unturned and wrapping every woman around his finger with his incredible charm.

After gathering enough information for a small overview for now, I moved on to brainstorming for finding a theme. 

The First Order gave me a lot of leeway through their countless headlines, but I still just couldn't seem to find a suitable topic that motivated me to both research and write.

That day, I was the last to leave the office. And probably the only one who still had no success at all. 

On the way home, I suddenly found myself fighting tears. The fear that I would not deliver a worthy cover story and fail began to spread rapidly inside me. 

"You have to stay calm," I tried to reassure myself in my mind, taking several deep breaths in and out. 

As I got off the subway and climbed the stairs to the main street, I caught sight of a huge neon sign that had been placed across the street. _"The First Order: new album **RITUS** is available now!" _was written above the album cover in curved lettering.__

____

____

As I walked past the illuminated advertisement, my eyes lingered on the singer whose face adorned the album cover. I paused for a moment and caught myself thinking that he actually didn't look as hot-headed as everyone described him. 

Shaking my head, I pushed that thought aside again and continued on my way. 

In my apartment, I dropped my bag on the floor, kicked my sneakers off my feet, and went into the kitchen to heat up the remains of my ready-to-eat pizza in the microwave in desperation. 

I then sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. 

Because it was already past 9 p.m., most channels had nothing interesting to offer, so I kept changing the channels. 

At some point I gave up and got stuck on a movie with Drew Barrymore. 

Since the movie had been on for almost an hour, I reached for my cell phone to find out about its content. 

"Unkissed" is about a 25-year-old journalist who returns to high school disguised as a student to go undercover to write a report on teenagers. However, in the process, she falls in love with her supposed literature teacher," I read aloud before taking another bite of my pizza slice.

"I should actually do something like that. That would definitely be the greatest cover story ever," I laughed with my mouth full and leaned against the cushion.

A few seconds passed before I realized what I had just said.

And then I came up with an idea that made me drive forward in such a flash that I almost choked on the pizza. 


	3. Chapter 3

"Do you really think this could work?" asked Lauren with a skeptical look on her face.

I shrugged my shoulders. "It worked in the movie, anyway."

"But the movie was about high school reporting, not a cover story about a world-famous rock band." Lauren raised one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows. "Besides, anything is possible in movies," she added afterwards.  
  
Rolling my eyes, I dropped my pen on the desk. 

"What do you want to infiltrate as, anyway?"

"I haven't really thought about that much, if I'm honest," I gave her in reply, biting my lower lip. 

Sighing, she pulled a second computer chair up to my desk to sit on it. "Cook falls out once already. No offense to your cooking, Rey, but I think the band expects a little more from catering than ready-made pizza and pasta with sauce." The brunette made a thoughtful face. "Photographer also falls out, because I'm sure there's already a permanent tour photographer."

Lauren paused for a moment before making a new suggestion. "How about a crew member job?"

I thought about it for a moment before finally falling into her arms. "Lauren...you're a genius."

My friend hesitantly returned the hug. "But you have absolutely no experience in this field. I really don't want to sound pessimistic, but this is never going to work," the brown-haired one said after we broke away from each other again. 

"After all, I've played in a high school band before. If I go back through research and remember all the things a roadie has to do, I'm sure I'll pass for one. At least in theory."

Lauren's expression remained unchanged. 

"I have to at least try, Lauren. Otherwise, I can kiss my job goodbye."

My friend quirked a brow before replying, "I'm the last person who would want to stop you from implementing your idea. I just wanted to point out to you the problems it could bring."

Before I could say anything in response, we were interrupted by Jane Parker, who had joined us with a clearing of her throat. "Good morning Miss Niima. Miss Geller." She nodded to Lauren, who let a soft "Good morning" slip across her lips and then rose in a rush to stumble back to her desk. 

"How are you coming along with your cover story, Miss Niima? Did the printouts of the reports and articles help you somewhat in finding a topic?" my boss inquired, surveying me with a penetrating look. 

I searched for the right words. "To be precise, they didn't necessarily...," I answered her question honestly. 

Miss Parker's eyebrows met in the middle. 

"...because I had a much better idea," I quickly continued speaking before she could say anything in response to my previous statement. 

The petite woman settled down in the chair Lauren had been sitting in earlier. "I'm all ears," she opened up to me, whereupon I let her in on the idea I had come up with yesterday thanks to the movie. 

After I had told her everything and therefore fell silent, there was silence for quite a while. 

My boss looked back and forth between me and the notes I had made last night. "Miss Niima," she began. "This is a really extraordinary idea! Extraordinary, but good!" The enthusiasm was literally written all over her face. 

I felt a bit thrown for a loop, as I hadn't expected her to actually think my more or less crazy idea was a good one. 

"Maybe I could even be of some help to you. I have a lot of contacts in this industry and I'm sure I could manage to set up an interview with the band's management," she informed me with a spark in her eyes. 

"That would be great," I stated.   
"Well, I'll make some phone calls right away. I'll get back to you as soon as there's any news."

Wide-eyed, I stared after my boss as she moved away from me with quick steps and headed purposefully toward her office. She closed her room door with so much momentum that my colleagues all raised their heads a little startled for a moment. 

It wasn't long before Lauren reappeared at my desk. "Did I just hear that right? She likes the idea and will even support you?"

Still speechless, I merely nodded. 

"Unbelievable," Lauren blurted out. "I didn't even know Jane Parker could feel anything like enthusiasm."

"She'd probably do anything for a good story," I countered after a while with raised eyebrows. 

My friend nodded in agreement and shrugged her shoulders afterwards. "Anyway, you should get behind your research now. If she really manages to sell you as a crew member and set you up with an interview, you'll need to be well prepared."

I sighed, "When you're right, you're right."

The brunette said goodbye with the words, "See you at lunch," before turning her back on me and strutting to her seat. 

The next few hours went by very doggedly, as the task of finding out more in-depth information about a roadie's field of activity, in addition to memorizing it, proved to be relatively difficult. Many technical terms I had never heard before, despite my limited experience through the school band. 

After several hours of intensive work, my desk was richer by countless sheets of paper on which the collected information was lined up. 

My head hummed as I sat back and yawned profusely.

Following that, I let my gaze slide to the clock, which showed me that it was well past time for my lunch break. For that reason, I stacked up the sheets, put the computer on standby, and grabbed my bag and jacket before finally stumbling over to Lauren's workstation.   
"Can we go?"

She nodded and grabbed her things as well before we took the elevator to the first floor and immediately exited the building. As usual, we walked to Five Guys, where I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and a vanilla milkshake while Lauren ordered a veggie burger and a Coke. 

"Have you actually listened to the band?" my friend wanted to know from me after we got our food and found a nice spot on the restaurant's rooftop patio. 

I shook my head and took a bite of my sandwich. 

"Then we'll catch up now. Luckily I packed my headphones," she said, pulling them and her cell phone out of her jacket pocket. 

Curiously, I slid my chair a little closer to the brunette so she could hand me an earbud. 

"Wow. The band has almost 40 million monthly listeners," she gave in a surprised tone and pressed play. 

After a piano prelude that had been backed by bass, a smooth yet deep voice boomed into our ears. 

"Sounds kind of gloomy," I remarked after we had listened to the song in its entirety, taking a sip of my milkshake in the same breath, which had become increasingly liquefied in the sun. 

"True," Lauren agreed with me. 

Even after the second and third songs, neither the music nor the lyrics got any happier. 

I squeezed the pent-up air out of my lungs and ran it through my hair. "And that's what nearly 40 million people listen to every month?" I asked in Lauren's direction before finishing the last bite of my sandwich. 

"Apparently," she laughed, sliding the phone and headphones back into her jacket pocket. "But I've heard worse," she said. 

I agreed with her.  
A glance at the clock told me that our break was slowly but surely coming to an end, which is why I slurped down the remains of the milkshake and put my tray on top of my friend's so we could put them in one of the trays.

Back in the office, I was already met by my boss. 

"Miss Niima! Would you please accompany me to my office? There is news," she informed me with a conspiratorial undertone. 

Lauren gave me a meaningful look before I placed my bag and jacket on my desk and ran after Miss Parker. Once again, I was met with curious expressions from my colleagues before my boss closed the door behind us. 

I flopped down on the leather chair where I had also sat yesterday and watched Jane Parker with an eager expression on my face. 

"You have an interview with the management of The First Order the day after tomorrow," she finally blurted out the news, clapping her hands enthusiastically in the aftermath. 

My breath caught for a moment. 

"Really?", I finally brought the question past my lips. 

"Yes. I was on the phone earlier with an acquaintance who owed me a favor and happens to know one of the members of The First Order's tour management. He spoke highly of you and recommended you at my request," she told me with a grin. "We're lucky you didn't come up with this idea next week, because by then the internal team meetings for the upcoming world tour would have been underway."

"Internal team meetings?", I huffed. 

"You shouldn't worry about that right now, Miss Niima. You need to get through the interview successfully first. How far along are you with your research?"

"I've delved deep enough into the subject matter that I have a fairly good overview of a roadie's job and understand all the technical terms that pertain to both stage and technical," I gave her in response, biting my lower lip.   
"Good, how about simulating an interview with Miss Geller tomorrow morning? You should take every chance to prepare for that interview as perfectly as possible."

I nodded. 

"Today you are excused from office work for the rest of the afternoon to stop by Music2See and get a hands-on lesson in the basics of wiring musical instruments and amplifiers. I've already talked to the general manager, who is also an old acquaintance, on the phone and let him know that I'll send one of my employees over in the afternoon for a crash course," she continued, eyeing me expectantly. 

"Thank you for your input, Miss Parker," I replied, a little caught off guard. 

"I have paved the way for you, Miss Niima. Now it is up to you how you will take it further. I'll see you in the morning," she said in closing, and with a nod, gestured for me to leave. 

I wasted no time, packed the most important documents in my bag and shut down the computer. Then I stomped over to Lauren's desk and gave her a brief summary of the latest events before finally making my way to the music store. 

Fortunately, it was only a few blocks away, so I decided to walk.

It was a beautiful summer day in Miami. The sun had meanwhile driven away the last clouds from the blue sky with its rays and the gentle wind made the leaves of the trees dance. The streets were filled with people, many with ice cream cones in their hands, others with shopping bags.

When I caught sight of Music2See's large sign, I suddenly felt a small tinge of excitement. 

"Hopefully I won't be too stupid," I thought as I entered the store and made my way between the instruments to the cash register.

The employee standing behind the counter looked at me expectantly.   
"My name is Rey Niima. Jane Parker sent me. She spoke to the manager on the phone earlier and let it be known that I would be stopping by," I explained to the young man, who then excused himself briefly to get his boss. 

Meanwhile, I let my eyes fly around the room; many guitars hung on the walls. While amps and lots of cables were piled up underneath them, above the guitar necks were scattered musical notes that stretched across the room on the wallpaper. In the left corner of the store was a massive drum kit, right next to it were two keyboards and a white grand piano. The center of the room was adorned by several small shelves teeming with music books and notebooks. There was also a revolving rack of CDs and records. 

My gaze finally slid to the ceiling, which had been fitted with an infinite number of tiny holes to give the room a better sound. 

Visibly impressed, I walked up to one of the acoustic guitars, which reminded me of the ones I had played in high school. Carefully, I touched the fine wood and tried to resist the urge to take the guitar off the wall and let my fingers run over the strings. 

"Miss Niima?" I suddenly heard a voice behind me, which made me flinch. 

I turned around and looked straight into the friendly face of a man who had to be about my boss's age. "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I'm the manager of this store," he said with a smile, extending his hand. 

"Rey Niima."

After shaking his hand and returning the smile, I looked at him with a tense expression. 

"So you want me to give you a little introductory course in wiring instruments with amplifiers and speakers?"

"That's right," I said, nodding. 

"Have you ever done anything like this before?" he wanted to know from me.

"I played in a student band in high school and I had to take care of the technology there quite often. Only very superficially, though. Now I'd like to get back into it a little more," I explained to him, hiding the fact that I was actually doing this just to sneak into a band as a crew member, write the greatest cover story ever, and thus save my job. 

"Good, then at least we don't have to start from scratch," he interjected, laughing again and getting moving.   
"I should hope so," I muttered, following him. 

"We'll retire to the rehearsal room so we can have our peace and quiet. I've already constructed a more or less real stage situation there," I was enlightened by the brown-haired one. 

As I stepped through the door that was right next to the counter where the employee was serving a customer who had come into the store during my conversation with the manager, I suddenly felt transported into a completely different world. 

The situation seemed so real that for a moment I actually thought I was accompanying a band on their tour. 

I let my eyes wander around the rehearsal room. It was equipped with a relatively large stage on which there was a lot of chaos; the instruments, the loudspeakers and their cables were spread all over the place. In between were three microphone stands with their associated microphones and headsets, which had been placed on a wooden stool along with their associated cables. 

"Don't worry, Miss Niima. Most of the time it looks worse than it actually is in the end," Mister Kenobi tried to reassure me with a grin after seeing my wide eyes. 

I swallowed. "Of course."

"It'll be fine," he said, patting me on the back before we got to work.


	4. Chapter 4

When I got out of the shower that morning, I would have liked to crawl back into my bed and pull the warm blanket over my head. 

All the efforts of the last two days, whether it had been the theory, the practical assembly and disassembly of the instruments, speakers and microphones, or the simulation of a job interview, were still deep in my bones. 

After yawning profusely, my eyes fell on the wall clock and I began to realize that in less than two hours I had to drive to Miami Springs and convince The First Order's tour management that I would make a terrific roadie. 

Sighing, I took one deep breath in and out.

Then I put on my ready - made blazer and suit pants and covered the slight circles under my eyes. Afterwards, I highlighted my eyelashes with a bit of mascara and gathered my freshly blow-dried hair into a loose braid. 

Satisfied, I looked at myself again in the mirror before I left the bathroom. 

After another glance at the clock, I decided to eat breakfast on the go, which is why I sneaked my wallet, cell phone, and apartment key into my pocket and slipped into the black Vans that were still on the hardwood floor in the hallway. 

Outside, the warm air hit me, accompanied by countless rays of sunshine. 

With a bit of nervousness and adrenaline in my blood due to the upcoming job interview, I strolled down the main street until I finally came to a stop in front of my regular bakery. I usually went there when I either didn't have time or didn't feel like creating my own breakfast. 

The saleswoman gave me a smile. "Same as always?"

Nodding, I started looking in my bag for the plaid wallet so I could hand it to her appropriately. 

She thanked me and in return handed me my nut croissant and chai latte before following up by wishing me a good day. 

"Thank you, you too," I replied, giving her a smile as well. 

Afterwards, I headed to the subway to get ready to head to Miami Springs. 

Although I still had a whole hour to go, I wanted to be on the safe side so that I could completely rule out any kind of delay.

The subway compartments were once again very full today due to the sunny weather, so I didn't even bother looking for a seat and stood right at the door. 

The air was so stuffy that I already started to sweat after a few minutes. I prayed inwardly that the humidity would spare my hair for once and not turn it into a frizzy mop. 

When the subway stopped at Miami Springs a quarter of an hour later, I began to relax.

Relieved, I balanced my coffee and brown-bagged nut croissant in one hand so I could press the button, causing the door to spring open with a jolt. 

Before I could take my breakfast back into separate hands and exit, I was suddenly jostled from behind. 

The Chai Latte slipped uncontrollably through my fingers and tipped away to the front; straight onto the person who had pushed me the second before still ungently to the side. 

Startled, I pressed my free hand over my mouth and jumped out of the train compartment in one leap, as the people behind me were already complaining that I was blocking the door. 

"You've got to be kidding me," cursed the man, whose face was obscured by the hood of his hoodie before he turned to face me. 

My coffee dripped off his white T-shirt. 

"Damn it. Can't you pay more attention?"

Actually, I wanted to apologize for that little mishap. After that rude statement, however, I struggled to stifle an irritated snort.   
"If you had been a little more patient and not bumped into me, none of this would have happened in the first place," I tried to say as calmly as possible. 

The young man wrinkled his nose, took off his sunglasses and narrowed his brown eyes. "Unlike some people, I don't have all day," he hissed, placing the Ray-Ban back on his nose and leaving me standing there without another word. 

I looked after him speechlessly before I picked up the empty coffee cup and disposed of it in the nearest trash can. 

Annoyed, I left the subway station behind me and looked for a park bench where I could sit down and eat my nut croissant in peace. 

My pulse, which had become a little faster due to the confrontation, had gradually calmed down again. But my anger at the rude man who now carried my chai latte on his top had not subsided even after half an hour. 

With a shake of my head, I finally made my way to the address my boss had neatly written for me on a pink Post-It note yesterday. 

However, since I didn't really know my way around Miami Springs, I glanced at my Google Maps app every now and then.  
  
As I walked around town, my eyes explored the surrounding area.   
Lush houses lined up on nearly every side of the street. Every now and then, a few mansions stood out among them, some of which were so huge that I had to crane my neck to view the buildings in their full size. 

Eventually, I reached the street where The First Order management was located. 

The massive sign bearing the name _Empire_ was visible from a distance, and with each step I took toward the building complex, I grew more nervous. 

"You can do it, Rey," I tried to encourage myself in my mind, taking several deep breaths in and out. 

When I finally stood in front of the door, I pressed the doorbell with shaky fingers. 

It wasn't long before a soft whirring sound was heard, allowing me to push the door open with ease.

The entrance hall looked so imposing that I paused for a moment to let it sink in. The walls shone in a light golden hue, while the tiles were marble and partially covered by a red carpet that led to the elevators as well as to the stairs and the counter, where a young woman sat, giving me a waiting look. 

I started moving again and walked towards the blonde with hurried steps.  
  
"Good afternoon, my name is Rey Niima. I have an interview with Mace Windu and Padmé Amidala in ten minutes," I stated the names Miss Parker had written down on the piece of paper in addition to the address. 

The petite woman stared at her computer screen. "You need to go to the third floor. Room 318 is already open, and management and the band will be there in a few minutes," she said, giving me a tight smile. 

"Thank you."

As I walked to the elevators, I reviewed her words. 

The management and the band?  
  
My heart instantly began to beat faster and I had to swallow hard because I suddenly felt nauseous. Suddenly I wasn't so sure if it had actually been a good idea to have some breakfast. 

Of course, the band had to be present. 

After all, it was their members who worked with the crew and therefore had to get an idea of potential new crew members. After all, in a field of activity like this, the harmony between the individual people should be right so that everything could run smoothly. 

"I'll rock the boat... with or without the ribbon," I said to myself again and tugged my blazer into place. 

Then the elevator doors opened and I stepped out into the hallway, which had also been red carpeted. 

Room 318 was at the end of the hallway, according to the signs. There were countless pictures showing the bands that were signed to _Empire_ on the wall. Relatively centered, I spotted the group picture of The First Order. It was the first photo I saw of the singer smiling. To be exact, it was the first photo where the whole band made a very sympathetic and authentic impression on me.

As I continued on my way and arrived in front of the room where the interview would take place, I cautiously peeked through the open door. 

In the center of the room stood an oblong table with matching chairs, which for once had blue cushions rather than red ones. On the wooden tabletop were several glasses and a large carafe of water. 

Since I didn't know whether I should already take a seat on one of the chairs, I stopped in the aisle and took another look at the band photos.   
After a few minutes, I suddenly heard several voices coming closer and closer. 

Eventually, two men and a woman stepped through the door that led to the stairwell. They walked straight in my direction, but slowed their steps when they spotted me. 

There was a brief whisper before they came to a stop in front of me after a while.

"So you're our new crew member," the red-haired one, who had to be Scott Anderson, stated, extending his hand to me.

I grasped it and cleared my throat. "Not quite yet."

"But pretty much," Nat Roberts, the drummer, interjected, winking at me.

Scott Anderson and Jack Murphy, the bassist who hadn't said anything yet, started laughing. The blonde rolled her eyes and barely noticeably shook her head before entering the room. Her two bandmates followed her and with a quick wave invited me to do the same. 

I sheepishly accepted the invitation and dropped into one of the chairs.  
  
Jack Murphy gave me a questioning look. "How many bands have you accompanied on tour?"

I gulped, thinking of the answer I had rehearsed with Lauren yesterday. "I've supported three bands so far, though they've had a very manageable range, as a roadie."

"Cool." The brown-haired one gave me a smile and I instantly began to understand why many women fell for it. 

"What's your name, anyway? We've heard a few things about you through our management, but no one has told us your name yet," Nat Roberts wanted me to tell him, reaching for one of the glasses.

"Rey."

She nodded. "Nice to meet you, Rey. My name is Nat and this is Scott and Jack."

I almost replied with, "I know," which is why I quickly bit my tongue and thought carefully about my next words so something like that wouldn't happen to me a second time.

"Nice to meet you," I finally replied. 

Before the three band members could ask me another question, a woman and a man joined us, their eyes landing directly on me. 

I rose and smiled at them both. 

"Good afternoon. You must be Miss Niima," I was greeted kindly by the dark-skinned one, who shook my hand and introduced himself as Mace Windu. 

The brown-haired woman then extended her hand to me. "Padmé Amidala. I am pleased to finally meet you in person. Anakin has spoken highly of you and your work," she opened to me and settled into one of the chairs.  
  
Mace Windu looked over at Nat, Scott and Jack. "Where's Ben?"

The three shrugged their shoulders. "Probably late again," Jack said, giving me an apologetic look. 

I waved it off. 

The next moment, the ajar door was yanked open. "Sorry I'm late. I had to change again because someone emptied their hot coffee on my T-shirt," the lead singer of The First Order spoke up and took a seat next to his bandmates. 

When I looked into his brown eyes, my suspicions were confirmed.

Ben Solo's mouth opened a crack as he eyed me. "Do we know each other? You look so familiar somehow."

I tried to ignore the rising nausea and mask my nervousness. "Not that I know of," I brought out between clenched teeth, praying he didn't recognize me. 

"Now that we are complete, we can actually begin. Are you ready, Miss Niima?" asked Padmé Amidala, to which I nodded.

Frantically, I averted my gaze from Ben Solo, whose brown eyes had bored so deeply into mine that all parts of my body were now covered in goose bumps.

And then, all at once, it clicked. "You," he whispered in my direction, narrowing his eyes.

"Did you say something?" asked Scott of his bandmate.  
  
In that moment, I saw my life as a journalist flash before my eyes. I swallowed hard and gave the black-haired man a pleading look. 

He didn't take his eyes off me for a second. "I was just wondering if Miss Niima would possibly prefer a chai latte instead of the water."

Suddenly, all eyes were on me. 

"N-no thanks," I stammered, failing miserably at trying to get my breathing back under control. 

"Are you all right? You're so pale all of a sudden," Mace Windu stated with a concerned undertone in his voice. 

"I'm just a little excited," I admitted honestly. 

"Don't worry, Miss Niima," the brunette said, smiling reassuringly at me. "This conversation will be over sooner than you think."

I risked a quick glance in Ben Solo's direction, who still hadn't averted his brown eyes from me. 

When I caught sight of the sardonic grin that curled his lips, I knew that the next few minutes would be not only the longest, but also the most uncomfortable conversation of my life. 


	5. Chapter 5

**6 WEEKS AT THE SIDE OF A ROCK STAR**

_The First Order - the most famous rock band in the world._

_Four musicians, a sold-out world tour, millions of fans - and me in the middle of it all._

_For six whole weeks, I accompany the band undercover as a crew member on their Rule The Galaxy tour to write a cover story about Ben Solo, probably the most controversial singer of all time, who has given himself the name "Kylo Ren"._

_What is life like alongside a rock star?_

_How much truth is there in the countless headlines?_

_And who is really hiding behind the mask of Kylo Ren?_

Satisfied, I read through the intro of my article one last time before I closed the small pad and exchanged it and the pen for the remains of the sandwich I had bought at the bakery earlier that morning. 

Despite my many insecurities that had come out at the interview due to Ben Solo's sharp-tonguedness, I had been accepted for the roadie job two weeks ago. 

Since then, I had been officially released from my actual job by Miss Parker so that I could fully concentrate on my new job and the cover story that came with it.

With a quiet sigh, I let the remaining pieces of the turkey sandwich disappear into my mouth before finally ending the lunch break and giving up my spot on the sunny bench to return to the band's rehearsal room. 

Because the preparations for the sold-out world tour were already in full swing, I had spent the last few days exclusively in The First Order's recording studio. 

Most of the time was mainly taken up by quite a few staff meetings and the numerous briefings on the various elements of the stage equipment. Since the band used a lot of pyrotechnics in their show, it was very important, especially for safety reasons, that everything had its proper place on stage. 

When I entered the rehearsal room, I immediately saw Yelena Maxwell sitting on the carpet, busy untangling the meter-long spare cable of the bass guitar. 

"Do you want me to help you?", I asked and made an effort to sit down next to her. 

Yelena nodded eagerly and handed me one end of the cable. "Almost looks like the spare cable hasn't been touched in years," she commented, suppressing a roll of her eyes, which caused us both to burst out laughing a moment later. 

The blonde and I had become friends relatively quickly over the past few days, as we were not only the only new members of the crew, but also the only female ones.

Yelena Maxwell was from Pinecrest, a small suburb of about 20,000 people located south of Miami Springs. She had graduated from high school a year ago and had applied for a job as a roadie rather than go to Miami Dade College. The twenty-year-old wanted to leave her humdrum life behind, travel the world and have lots of adventures. 

"Do you know when the dress rehearsal starts?", I tried to find out. 

"In an hour," the blonde replied. "Hopefully we will have successfully untangled the cable by then," she added with a sarcastic undertone in her voice after a short pause. 

I frowned. "And where are the others?"

"The lighting technicians wanted to revise their designs before the dress rehearsal and most of the other crew members are taking care of organizing the pyrotechnics right now. Where the rest are, I'm afraid I can't tell you. They might still be on their lunch break," Yelena said, shrugging her shoulders. 

Nodding, I pulled my cable end through several loops, which resulted in a longer section of the cable being exposed. 

Yelena did the same.   
After half an eternity, we had completely untangled the cable. The blonde gently rolled it up to prevent knots of any kind from forming again. Then she dropped it into one of the countless boxes that were crisscrossed on the floor in front of the stage. 

"Shall we go ahead and check if all the instruments are in tune and do a kind of sound check?" she suggested afterwards, looking at me with a wait-and-see expression. 

I swallowed. 

So far, I had always managed to keep myself in the background regarding any tasks that involved the instruments. 

"Yes," I agreed with her with a curt nod and tried with difficulty to push the rising excitement, which brought a sinking feeling in the stomach area, into the background. 

Immediately, I attached myself to Yelena's heels and climbed onto the stage after her. 

While I devoted myself to the guitars and connected everything exactly as I had rehearsed and practiced it with Obi-Wan Kenobi in his store, the brown-haired girl settled down at the monstrous drum kit, whose cymbals were bigger than my head. 

After successfully not only plugging in the two electric guitars, but also tuning them, which took some time, I watched Yelena wire the bass guitar to the speaker. 

"Have you tested the microphones yet?" the brown-haired one asked after a while, nodding in their direction. 

Shaking my head, I walked up to the three microphone stands and placed them on their respective markers. After that, I made it a point to connect the microphones to the speakers and place them in their mounts so that I could turn them on and try them out afterwards. 

When I had successfully completed this task as well, I wanted to go back to Yelena, who was still fiddling with the bass guitar. 

However, on the way to my new friend, I tripped over the cable of the middle microphone stand. I had completely forgotten to tape it to the floor so that just such a thing didn't happen.   
I flailed my arms wildly and let out a shrill squeal before finally losing my balance and sailing over the edge of the stage. 

With narrowed eyes, I waited to feel some kind of pain; but nothing came.   
Cautiously, I flicked open my eyelids and looked straight into a pair of brown eyes. 

"You really seem to have two left feet," Ben Solo murmured. 

Where had he come from all of a sudden? Had he been in the room all along? Why hadn't I noticed him? 

Snorting, I freed myself from his arms, which had saved me from a rough encounter with the floor. After straightening my top to some extent and removing individual strands of hair from my face, I glanced briefly at the black-haired man, who was still watching me with raised eyebrows.

"Thank you," I remarked as politely as I could before hoisting myself back up onto the stage and correcting my mistake.

The singer of The First Order climbed up after me with an ease. "A fatal mistake for someone who has been praised in such high terms."

Spasmodically, I tried to let his pointed remark bounce off me and focus on the tape and the cable. 

"I've been against them choosing you from the beginning. Someone who can't even hold his coffee properly in his hand is anything but suited for a job like this. In fact, your little mistake just proved my point," he continued to tease. 

I straightened up. "Haven't you ever made mistakes before?"

Immediately after throwing the words at him, I regretted them as well. 

Ben suddenly stepped so close to me that I could feel his hot breath on my skin. "No. I don't make mistakes," he said in a soft voice that seemed to resemble merely a breath, yet was accompanied by a threatening undertone. 

A little intimidated, I took a step backward to put some distance between us again. "I don't think so. Everyone makes mistakes sooner or later; it happens almost automatically and is human," I muttered. 

Ben's already somber eyes seemed to have grown a notch darker. "Silence is a virtue, Miss Niima."

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my rising anger at his provocations in check. 

"Respect, too."

Then, without another word, I weaved my way past him and jumped off the stage in one leap.

Both the other crew members and the rest of The First Order had gathered in the rehearsal room during our little altercation and had overheard it. Some of them, including Jack and Nat, gave me respectful looks before I rushed out the door with quick steps. 

My legs carried me to the restroom. 

When I finally entered the small room and looked in the mirror, I caught sight of the thick tears that had been building up in the corners of my eyes for the past few seconds. 

"Damn it. Get a grip, Rey," I snapped at myself, ruffling my hair in the same breath. 

"He's a jerk who just wants to provoke you. He's not worth it," I continued to rant at myself. 

With a wave of my hand, I turned on the faucet and let the cold water sprinkle my fingers before splashing my slightly flushed face and rubbing the tears from the corners of my eyes. 

It took me a few minutes to fully compose myself and stumble into the hallway. 

There I ran into Jack, who was casually leaning against the wall, typing away on his cell phone. At the sight of me, he let the smartphone slide back into his pocket before carefully speaking up in a low voice. "Is everything okay with you?"

"Yes," I answered the question almost a little too quickly. 

He didn't respond at all, however, and instead gave me a wan smile. "Good, then will you walk me back to the rehearsal room?"  
I considered his words for a moment. Then my eyebrows met in the middle. "Aren't you supposed to be there and on stage with your band for dress rehearsal by now?", I demanded to know from him. 

The brown-haired one shrugged his shoulders. 

"The five minutes I waited for you won't matter now," he let slip with a grin on his lips.

He then nodded to me and started to move.  
  
I sighed and did the same. 

"You know," he began a moment later. "You shouldn't take what Ben says too much to heart."

Another sigh slipped out of my mouth. 

"That's easier said than done. I'm an incredibly sensitive person and can't handle teasing and provocation," I replied honestly, remembering that argument that had gotten me into the whole mess I was currently in the first place. 

We came to a stop in front of the rehearsal room. 

Jack glanced at me from the side. "You made a very composed impression on me, though, and gave exactly the right answers."

The brown-haired one winked at me before turning away and entering the room.

I remained standing in front of the door until Yelena eventually appeared next to me and put her dainty arm around me. "Solo has you all figured out, doesn't he?"

"Apparently," I grumbled. 

I took one deep breath and exhaled. "But I'll try to let his jabs bounce off me in the future."

"That's a good attitude to have. And you'll have your rest for today anyway, because the dress rehearsal is about to start. Kurt and Paul told me to find a seat and watch so we'd at least have a rough idea of how the show was going to go," she informed me, applying light pressure to my back with her hand so I started to move. 

Inside, the blonde broke away from me and picked up one of the boxes still standing in the middle of the way. 

I didn't hesitate long and grabbed one of the relatively large cardboard boxes as well, moving it out of the way.

Cautiously, I risked a glance out of the corner of my eye in the direction of the stage. The four members of the band had already spread out on their instruments and were doing a cursory sound check before launching into the first song on their setlist. 

While the others began to get completely lost in the music, Ben Solo's eyes were always on me. 

I gulped and placed the box on the crate that had been placed by Yelena on the left side of the room before settling down on the table next to the brunette. 

Ben Solo, meanwhile, had averted his gaze from me. 

I took the opportunity to examine him more closely. 

He had gathered his shoulder-length hair in a loose chignon, from which, however, individual strands had come loose and now played around his angular face, bouncing up and down with jerky movements. His gray shirt was not completely buttoned, which is why the cross-shaped pendant of his necklace was revealed now and then.

I wondered if the pendant had any special meaning for him. 

Suddenly, the singer clutched the microphone with his black-painted fingernails and launched into a high note. 

There was something about the black-haired man's deep singing voice that sent a shiver down my spine. 

Before I could avert my gaze again, it was already caught by Ben's brown eyes. 

And then the song was over. 


	6. Chapter 6

"Have you picked out anything to eat yet?", I was asked by Lauren, who was studying the menu with raised eyebrows. 

I thought for a moment before answering. "Probably a tuna pizza."

My best friend lowered the menu and gave me a meaningful look. "Are you serious? We're sitting in a five-star restaurant with the largest selection of food I've ever laid eyes on and you want to order a pizza?"

Defensively, I raised my hands. "The last time Brad Pitt was in Miami and ate at Arcadias with Angelina Jolie, he praised the tuna pizza to the skies."

"And since you're such a big fan of Brad Pitt, of course you have to order the same pizza." Lauren rolled her eyes with a laugh before returning her full attention to the menu. 

"I'll probably go for the vegetarian lasagna," she said after a while, setting the menu aside so she could pick up the full champagne glass. 

I did the same. 

My best friend smiled at me. "To you."

A soft clink reached my ears as we toasted each other. 

"So what else did Miss Parker give you to take with you when you went to her office earlier?" the brunette wanted to know from me afterwards. 

"Not much. She stressed again how important this cover story is. And that I should definitely use this incredible opportunity to get internal information and details about the band and its members. In addition, she announced to me that she will probably call me once a week via Facetime so that I can tell her about my progress," I told her about the conversation with our boss. 

Lauren barely noticeably shook her head and took another sip of her champagne. "Oh wow. So you won't even have your peace in Europe."

I sighed, "I won't have that in the presence of Ben Solo anyway."

"Is he really as bad as he's described in all those magazines?"  
"I would go so far as to say that he has a very hotheaded demeanor," I began. "Ever since he identified me as the person to blame for the brown coffee stains on his T-shirt, he hasn't missed a chance to embarrass me in front of the others or throw any snide comments at me."

"What a jerk," my best friend commented. 

"An idiot on whom more or less the further course of my professional career depends," I muttered with a slightly annoyed undertone in my voice. 

"Are the other band members at least nice?"

I answered her question in the affirmative with a nod. "I really wonder how they put up with that petulant snob."

Before Lauren could say anything in response, one of the waiters suddenly appeared at our table. "Have you found anything yet?"

The brunette and I exchanged a brief but meaningful glance before she spoke up. "I'd like the vegetarian lasagna. I'll have to make a few changes, though, since I'm not too big a fan of broccoli, plus I have a garlic intolerance. Maybe cauliflower and more onions could be used instead. And there should be either fresh chives or parsley in the sauce." She interrupted herself briefly, batting her mascaraed eyelashes. "Or preferably both. Thank you."

The young man scribbled away on his notepad, overwhelmed, before looking cautiously in my direction. 

"I'd like the tuna pizza. For my sake, you can leave out the tomato slices and put a little more tuna on the pizza instead," I placed my order and gave him a sympathetic smile. 

He thanked me, took the menus and disappeared with quick steps. 

"You've made far too few extra requests," I was reprimanded by my best friend, who looked at me reproachfully from the side, yet wore a small grin on her pink lips. 

"I think you've commissioned enough extra for the both of us."

"You say that every time," she countered, rolling her eyes. 

I clucked my tongue at her, causing us both to laugh. 

Lauren and I had wanted to celebrate her long-awaited promotion a few years ago at one of the hottest four-star restaurants in Coral Gables. However, despite having made a reservation, we had been turned away by security at the entrance because our normal attire did not meet the restaurant's dress code. 

For this reason, we since had the tradition to visit an expensive restaurant in Miami once a month and slip for a few hours in the role of a wealthy person, by dressing up accordingly and a snobby behavior to the day. 

Sometimes Lauren even blossomed a little too much in this role.

"Have I actually told you that you look stunning again today?", I was complimented by the brunette in a puffy voice. 

"Thank you! You look absolutely gorgeous too, of course. The dress accentuates your figure incredibly well and really brings out your eyes. Did you actually know that all shades of red are currently the number one most worn color this year according to the latest Cosmopolitan issue?", I fluted exaggeratedly.

"But of course! That's why I've removed everything from my closet that isn't red!" 

A moment of silence passed before we finally burst out laughing. 

"I can't believe there are actually people who talk like that and are serious about it," I snorted at one point, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of my eye. 

My best friend agreed with me before her expression suddenly turned serious. She swallowed, her eyes shining. "And I can't believe I won't get to see you once for six weeks starting tomorrow." She wrinkled her nose. "I hope you don't forget about me during that time, or find a new best friend." 

I reached for her hand. "Lauren...how could I ever forget you? You will always be my best friend. Nothing will ever change that; no matter what."

A tiny tear stole from her eye and made its way down her powdered cheek.   
Carefully, I slid my chair a little closer to the table so I could reach out my hand and wipe the tear away. "Besides, I'll write to you every day. And we can talk on the phone as often as possible!"

She nodded. "If you don't get back to me, I'm going to destroy your non-existent Chanel and Gucci bags."

I laughed. "Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a promise," the brunette giggled. 

We both reached for our champagne glasses and toasted again before the waiter appeared at our table for the second time to serve the food we had ordered. 

He wished us a good appetite and then disappeared back into the kitchen. 

While I waited for the pizza to cool a bit, I let my eyes wander around the room. 

Almost all the tables were occupied. Huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling, bathing the restaurant in a bright light. The walls had been painted a dark red, making the white picture frames with expensive paintings stand out even more. The floor consisted almost entirely of black marble tiles, with occasional golden embellishments. 

"The lasagna tastes delicious. However, the chef was a little too good with the parsley," Lauren noted, which is why my gaze landed on her.

I shook my head with a laugh. "Maybe the waiter was trying to get one over on you," I remarked before reaching for my first slice of pizza and letting the tuna melt in my mouth. 

"Or maybe he was afraid of me," she commented, shrugging her shoulders.

When we had both finished eating, the brown-haired one ordered dessert from the menu one more time. 

"What? Your farewell needs to be celebrated properly," she said after seeing my look, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

"Will you order me some vanilla ice cream with hot raspberries on the side?"

Lauren's eyebrows met in the middle. "Why don't you order it for yourself?"

"Because I'm going to get some fresh air," I answered her question, reaching for my bag. 

The brunette rolled her eyes. "When did you start smoking again? How many times do you want me to rub it in your face that cigarettes are poison for your lungs?"

"See you in a bit, Lauren. And remember the ice cream," I said goodbye with a grin on my lips, rose from the chair and headed straight for the exit of the restaurant. 

The burly man who served as Arcadia's security guard gave me a scrutinizing look as I passed him. 

Wordlessly, I pulled a cigarette from the pack that was fortunately at the top of my bag and handed it to the dark-skinned man, whose features instantly softened a bit. 

He thanked me with a grin and pulled a lighter from his pocket. 

I waved it off and walked a few steps before finally pulling a second cigarette out of the pack and placing it lit between my lips. 

Smoking was a bad habit that I just couldn't kick. 

At least by now I had managed to reach for the cigarette only in stressful situations. And since my life would be turned completely upside down starting tomorrow and I would have to work for six weeks alongside the most unfriendly singer ever, I had truly earned this cigarette. 

A light breeze that made the leaves on the trees dance made my prom dress puff up. 

While I was fiddling with the petticoat and trying to smooth out the fabric, I suddenly heard several voices. With a furrowed brow, I spun around once and recognized two figures standing at the side of the restaurant in the darkness, arguing loudly with each other.   
Because of the distance, I could not make out exactly what they were arguing about. 

However, both the voices and the silhouettes suggested that it was a man and a woman, presumably boyfriend and girlfriend.

I watched as the man suddenly raised his hand and reached for the woman's arm.

My eyes wandered to the security man who was engaged in conversation with two restaurant patrons. 

Should I tell him about the altercation?

Before I could put my thought into action, however, I suddenly heard the hissed "You’re such a dick" of the woman, who then freed herself from his grip and stomped past me with an angry expression on her face.   
I looked after her, before I looked again to the man, who still stood at the same place and hit with his fist aggressively on the garbage can, which was directly beside him. 

When he stepped out of the shadows, I could hardly believe my eyes and gasped in fright.

Fate apparently disliked me as much as Ben Solo, who contorted his face and rubbed his hand with an angry snort before raising his eyes.

I turned my back on him in a flash and started moving, trying to finish the remains of my cigarette as quickly as possible. But the sound of his perplexed voice told me that he had already seen me. 

"Miss Niima."

Caught off guard, I stopped and turned in his direction. 

Brown met brown. 

"Are you following me?" he asked, amused, closing the distance between us by a few feet. 

I gulped. "No."

"Are you sure?" he echoed.   
I rolled my eyes. "If I wanted to chase you, I certainly wouldn't do it in a ball gown," I returned in a provocative tone, taking another drag on my cigarette and then releasing the smoke into the night sky in a large cloud.

The black-haired one raised an eyebrow and started eyeing me. "It's really interesting to see how you dress in your personal life. How many times have you turned over with your shoes on? Or tripped over the hem of your dress? Did someone's T-shirt have to suffer through that again?"

"No. But what isn't can still be. Are you volunteering?", I peppered him, once again on the verge of throwing my painstakingly built self-control to the wind. 

Ben Solo said nothing in reply, but instead a harsh laugh escaped from his throat. 

It was the first time I had heard him laugh and seen the dimples that decorated his cheeks. 

Although this action almost made the singer seem sympathetic, I rolled my eyes before taking a few steps away from him to stub out my cigarette in the ashtray that was on the side of the road on top of the trash can.

Since the conversation was over for me at this point, I decided to make my way back to the restaurant.

However, Ben Solo put a spoke in my wheel by getting in my way. "Do you actually know that if you don't quit smoking, your lungs will eventually turn black? That's how lung cancer develops, by the way, and it's 20 times more common in smokers than non-smokers," he suddenly began, nodding in the direction of the cigarette I had just discarded in the trash. 

I sighed. "Don't you have anything better to do than interfere in other people's lives?"

"No," he answered me with a sly grin. 

I shook my head, barely perceptible. "I hope you have a nice evening."

"You don't. Because you don't like me."

"This is the first time we've agreed on that point," I said honestly, giving him a wan smile. 

The black-haired one ruffled his hair, "I'll see you tomorrow, Rey."

The way he pronounced my first name sent a shiver down my spine. 

Before entering the restaurant, I gave him one last look, which he immediately returned. His brown eyes seemed to burn deep into my soul.  
  
A short time later, I was sitting again in front of my best friend, who was just shoving a spoonful of fruit ice cream into her mouth. "Your vanilla ice cream with hot raspberries is coming up. And we'll both get another glass of champagne on the house because I told the waiter it was your birthday."  
I nodded absently.

Lauren looked at me scrutinizingly. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," I replied, swallowing hard.

I failed miserably at trying to block out the brown eyes that still haunted me. 


	7. Chapter 7

"You have to promise me that you'll get back to me as soon as you get your feet back on the ground," my best friend murmured as she hugged me so tightly that I almost couldn't breathe.

"Lauren...you almost sound like my mother. And if you keep hugging me this tight, I won't even make it to the plane," I countered through clenched teeth.

Lauren loosened the hug instantly. "Sorry."

I waved it off and gave her a smile.

"Take good care of yourself, Rey. And don't let it get you down. But don't go too far out on a limb either... we know how that ends otherwise," the brown-haired one laughed before giving me another hug and then ruffling through my hair.

"I'll try my best," I replied, swallowing down the tears that suddenly began to form in the corners of my eyes.

I then shouldered my carry-on, which contained my laptop and a notepad among other things, and placed my free hand on the handle of the suitcase.

"See you soon," I finally said goodbye to the brunette.

She blew me an air kiss. "See you soon."

I took a deep breath and waved to my best friend one more time before finally walking through the entrance of the huge airport, looking for the display board where I was supposed to meet my colleagues.

Since the last time I had flown was about three years ago, it took me a brief moment to get my bearings in the entrance hall.

Numerous people were streaming in various directions to head to their respective gates, while others sat on the benches with their luggage waiting for their flights to be called.

When I found the unmissable board, my eyes fell on the countless flights listed there. Among others, I spotted one to Houston, which made me involuntarily think of my parents. 

Since I had moved to Miami to pursue my career aspirations, I had rarely had contact with my mother and father and consequently had not heard from them for several months.

I swallowed.

Maybe I should send them a message again sometime and let them know I was okay.

"Rey!", I was suddenly jolted out of my thoughts.

Turning around, I caught sight of Yelena walking towards me along with Kurt.

She wrapped her petite arms around my body without warning, which is why my backpack almost slipped off my shoulder.

"I'm so excited," she chirped, her eyes sparkling after she broke away from me again.

"Me too," I muttered sarcastically.

Fortunately, I had made this statement so quietly that it had been overheard by both of them.

The blonde turned to Kurt. "Where do we have to go, anyway?"

"Gate 66," he replied.

My gaze fell on the display board. "But according to the board, Gate 66 doesn't exist," I noted with a furrowed brow.

Kurt laughed. "The gate doesn't officially exist either because it's private."

Yelena's eyes got big. "Are we flying on a private jet?"

He nodded, at which point my newfound friend let out a pointed scream and hopped on the spot for a few seconds. "Did you hear that, Rey? We're going to fly on a private jet," it just gushed out of her.  
I tried to ignore the rising tingle in my stomach. "Why wasn't there a word about this in all the meetings?"

The blond-haired one shrugged.

"It doesn't matter at all! We should just be happy about the fact that we're going to be traveling around the world in a private plane," the blonde-haired one said in such a cheerful voice that her good mood actually threatened to rub off on me a little.

"Actually, we're only flying to Europe with it for now, since we're provided with a tour bus there for all the dates. Only when it goes on to Australia, we will fly with the private jet again," Kurt interjected, which earned him an annoyed look from Yelena.

He raised his arms defensively and failed in his attempt to stifle a grin. 

I put a hand on Yelena's shoulder. "This is still going to be an incredible experience, I'm sure," I grinned.

The blonde nodded before hugging my neck again.

"There are the others," we were interrupted a few seconds later by Kurt, who pointed to the rest of the crew who had just come through the airport entrance and were heading straight for us.

"Paul, JJ and Dean are already on the runway. They brought the truck in half an hour ago so we can put the pyrotechnics and stage equipment right in the cargo hold," we were told by a lanky man whose name I had already forgotten, though.

Kurt nodded before he started to move and went to one of the counters.

While he stook care of it that we were let to gate 66, Yelena continued to linger in my ears with her ravings about flying in a private plane. She told me stories, mostly about some celebrities and their private jet mishaps. When she finally told me about the rumor that Ben Solo had cheated on his girlfriend at the time with a stewardess a few years ago, I involuntarily rolled my eyes and drifted off in thought.

It wasn't until Kurt waved us over and we stumbled after a petite blonde who was supposed to take us to the runway that I began to listen more attentively to Yelena, who was still talking without a dot or comma.  
Every now and then I gave a "Wow" or a "I agree" so that she wouldn't notice that I couldn't really do anything with the subject. I was the kind of person who had always been interested in serious journalism and important topics, which is why all the gossip magazines and their contents had largely passed me by. And it was precisely for this reason that the task of being the author of such an article was probably the biggest challenge of my life so far.

After a long walk, we finally arrived at gate 66.

Fortunately, the security check and the handing over of the luggage didn't take too long, so we were allowed to move on relatively quickly and for this reason already reached the runway a few minutes later, on which the massive private jet was enthroned. Right next to it was the aforementioned truck with the pyrotechnics and stage equipment, which looked like a small fly compared to the massive plane.

But before we got down to work and moved all the stuff around, everyone first looked for a place in the spacious plane to be able to stow their hand luggage.

Curious, I let my eyes glide through the interior of the private jet, whose seats resembled the business class of a normal airliner.

I gulped.

The First Order had yet another extra section, not far from our seats, that looked so luxurious that I began to seriously wonder how much money the band must have in their bank account to afford such a thing.

Yelena noticed my look.

"Awesome, right?" she formulated tonelessly.

Sighing, I agreed with her as I put my backpack down on the seat that was across from the blonde's.

After taking a sip of water and gathering my hair into a loose braid, I gave Yelena a questioning look. 

"I have to do one more for little girls. Go ahead," she giggled almost a little sheepishly before turning on her heel.

With a grin on my lips, I started to leave the jet again; after all, the stage equipment didn't clear itself into the cargo hold.

On the relatively narrow staircase, I met Nat and the other band members who had just arrived.

I took a deep breath.

As I passed her, she gave me a bright smile, which I immediately returned. Jack and Scott were also visibly pleased to see me; Jack even paused briefly in his movement so that he could shake my hand.

And then I finally stood in front of Ben Solo.

On the tip of his nose sat a pair of dark sunglasses, which is why I couldn't see his eyes. And yet I knew he was eyeing me. I could feel it; literally feel his eyes inspecting every inch of my body.

I cleared my throat. "Good morning."

He nodded wordlessly before sidling past me and climbing the stairs of the private plane.

"Well, don't then," I grumbled, rolling my eyes and getting moving.

Kurt, Paul, Dean, JJ and the others were already moving the pyrotechnics into the cargo hold, which is why I joined them in carrying a smaller item, which despite its size had an incredible weight, into the hold along with the lanky man whose name I still couldn't remember.

It wasn't long before Yelena joined us and lent a hand as well.

A good hour later, the truck was empty, the spacious cargo hold of the private jet was full, and all the crew members were out of breath.

After we all high-fived and praised each other for working so well together, Kurt announced to our pilot and some of the airport staff that we had finished our work and were theoretically ready to take off.

Yelena stepped up beside me and put a hand on my shoulder. "Let's go back to the plane. I really need something to drink."

I nodded.  
When we were back at our seats, I propped myself up against the back of my seat and more or less gasped desperately for air. My lungs were burning like fire, and I found myself secretly cursing myself for not even beginning to adjust my body to the new job, or at least quitting smoking.

"I told you smoking was unhealthy," a deep voice suddenly sounded behind me, causing me to flinch slightly.

Turning around, I caught sight of Ben, who had by now placed the sunglasses on his hair, which was sticking out in all directions.

His brown eyes were already eyeing me for the second time that day.

"I'm fine," I said and stood up in front of him, which consequently caused a small coughing fit, which I was able to suppress until the black-haired man had moved away from me, shaking his head.

My newfound friend gave me a meaningful look as I gave free rein to my coughing fit. "He just can't help it, can he?"

I shrugged.

"How long are we flying, anyway?", I retorted, thus changing the subject.

Yelena frowned and began typing on the built-in screen, which looked like an oversized iPad, before answering my question. "According to the plotted route on the monitor, it will take us almost 11 hours to get from Miami to Dublin. Fortunately, with a private jet, we don't have to make a layover; in fact, that saves us a few hours."

"Then I'll have a little time to rest," I sighed as I got my breathing halfway back under control.

With a dull sound, I dropped onto the seat and immediately slipped my sneakers off my feet so I could make myself as comfortable as possible.

The blonde-haired one did the same to me. "I can't really believe yet that in a few hours we'll be on another continent," she said with wide eyes, meanwhile tugging her left sock into place, which had slipped a little due to the removal of her sneaker.

"I feel the same way," I agreed with her.

"And I miss Lauren already," I thought in the same breath and started rummaging in my backpack.

After finally finding and unlocking my phone, a message from Lauren already jumped out at me. "Have a good flight <3", was written in it, which is why I had to smile involuntarily and immediately typed a reply. I thanked her and couldn't help mentioning in passing that we were on a private plane.

I then entered my mother's number and wrote her a short text message informing her about the latest events in my life. The fact that I had sneaked in as an undercover crew member of the probably most famous rock band in the world, I skillfully let fall under the table.

I briefly thought about whether I should really send the message before I finally pressed send. 

Then I connected my headphones to my cell phone and let the new Paramore album play before I leaned my temple against the cool window pane and closed my eyes.

Although many thoughts were buzzing around in my head, I fell victim to the darkness relatively quickly and sank into the world of dreams. 

The next time my eyelids fluttered, we already were in the air.

My gaze first fell out the window before I subsequently looked at Yelena, who had also curled up in her seat and closed her eyes tightly.

I smiled barely noticeably before looking to the monitor that was immediately in front of me. While putting my lower lip between my teeth, I tapped around on the screen and eventually had the map displayed to find out how far we had already flown and where we were currently.

It eventually told me that we were currently crossing the North Atlantic Ocean and still had eight hours of flight ahead of us.

With a quiet sigh, I slipped into my shoes.

Unfortunately, since Yelena was sound asleep, I couldn't ask her for directions to the restroom, so I ended up going off on my own to explore the plane. 

It didn't take long until I found the restroom, which was located between the crew members' area and the band's area. 

However, because it was currently occupied, I took another look out the window. 

The clouds looked so soft that I would have liked to jump out of the plane and settle on one of them. 

"Rey?", I was suddenly pulled out of my thoughts. 

Jack stepped out of the restroom and joined me. "Do you think the clouds look like little sheep, too?" he wanted to know from me, nodding in the direction of the window. 

"Yes. I'd just love to know what it feels like to lie on one of them."

Jack started to laugh. "You probably wouldn't feel much there, because you'd just fall right through them."

I playfully punched him in the shoulder and stifled an eye roll. "I know."

"Careful," he gave out, rubbing the spot I had just punched. "I'm going to have to be able to play bass guitar with this arm for the next few weeks."  
A laugh escaped my mouth as I shook my head. 

However, I stopped that movement immediately as an uncomfortable tugging sensation announced itself in my neck. Almost automatically, my hand slid to the aching spot. 

"What's wrong?" asked Jack.

I waved it off. "My neck hurts a little. I probably overextended myself a little earlier."

He motioned for me to turn around. 

With raised eyebrows, I followed his instruction and turned my back to him. 

Not a second later, I suddenly felt his soft hands on my skin, which began to gently massage the painful area. 

I managed with difficulty to suppress a relieved groan.   
"Did I get the spot?" he echoed. 

"Yes," I replied in a whisper and closed my eyes for a moment. The little massage he gave me just outside the toilet felt incredibly good, and I felt a marked improvement in the pain - quite unlike before. 

"Good," he laughed. 

All of a sudden, a third voice joined us. 

"Get a room," Ben Solo commented with an annoyed undertone. 

A little startled, I widened my eyes and stared at the black-haired man who had come to a halt immediately in front of me. 

Jack paused in his movement and gave the lead singer of his band a provocative look. "I'm afraid that's a bit difficult aboard an airplane," he finally countered, which is why I struggled to refrain from laughing out loud. 

Ben rolled his eyes before pulling the restroom door into the lock behind him. 

I looked to Jack, who met me with an apologetic look, to which I waved off. Ben's teasing had become something of a normality by now; although there were exceptions and sometimes we could even be halfway normal with each other - like last night outside the restaurant. 

"Thanks for the massage," I finally let out, rubbing the spot again, which now didn't hurt as much as before. 

"No problem. You should be careful in the future that something like that doesn't happen to you again. In the long run, it can cause quite a bit of damage," I was instructed by the brown-haired man. 

Before I could say anything back, Ben yanked open the door to the bathroom and stepped out. "Miss Niima is not good at taking tips, Jack," was the only thing he said before disappearing again. 

The bass player looked at me with a puzzled expression. 

"We met yesterday by chance in front of Arcadias. I was standing outside smoking a cigarette, whereupon he rubbed it in my face that smoking is unhealthy and I'll probably die of lung cancer someday if I don't quit," I enlightened the brown-haired one, sighing.

Jack smirked. "I can't believe I'm saying this myself. But I'm afraid I have to agree with Ben on this one," he replied before winking at me and leaving me alone without another word. 

I shook my head with a grin. 

When I returned from the bathroom, Yelena was just about to wake up.   
The blonde-haired girl rubbed her eyes, yawning, and then stretched her arms and legs. 

"How long have I been asleep?" she wanted to know from me. 

"We still have about eight hours to go, so about three hours," I calculated for her and took my seat again. 

She nodded before asking a second question. "Do you know when there will be food? I'm starving."

I shrugged. "That's a good question. Have you ever looked at the fancy screen? Maybe there's some kind of daily schedule there somewhere," I laughed, tapping the monitor to bring the device out of standby. 

After a while, I actually found what I was looking for. 

"For better or worse, you'll have to wait almost two more hours until dinner," I announced to my new friend, who then let out a loud sigh. 

"Fine...I'll just take another nap until then."

"You do that," I replied with a laugh.

Following that, I reached for my cell phone and put the plugs in my ears, continuing to let the soft sounds of Hayley Williams' voice wash over me.   
In front of my eyes the brown iris appeared again, which made Ben Solo's eyes look so incredibly dark that I got goose bumps in all parts of my body almost every time he looked at me. 

Even though I didn't like him, I had to admit, willy-nilly, that there was something about him that made him interesting.   
I thought about my article again and mentally tried to find a good beginning for it. After a few seconds I finally decided to write down my thoughts on the small notepad I had just pulled out of my backpack.   
As I turned the music up a little louder to better block out the surroundings, my phone flashed briefly.

I put the pencil aside and activated the lock screen again; only to see that I had already received a new message a few hours ago, before we had even taken off. 

My mother had texted me.


	8. Chapter 8

When the private jet landed in Dublin, it was already after 8 pm. 

In contrast to the sunny weather in Miami, it was raining cats and dogs in the capital of Ireland, so we decided to just put the stage equipment and pyrotechnics into the truck that would accompany us through Europe in the next few weeks and unload it at the venue in the morning.  
  
Kurt, Paul and JJ had already agreed to drive the truck to Croke Park after emptying the plane, so that we could get straight to work in the morning.   
Meanwhile, the rest of the crew and the band waited in a separate area in the airport lobby for the arrival of the tour bus that would also take us to Croke Park and stay there overnight.

However, the bus let wait meanwhile already nearly 20 minutes for itself; completely to the displeasure of Ben. 

The black-haired guy kept impatiently running through his slightly curly hair and complained to the other members of the band almost every minute about the delay.

My gaze fell on Nat, who rolled her eyes at some point and annoyedly reprimanded the singer, who then got up from the bench and pranced up and down like a tiger in front of the huge window pane. His face showed a tired expression, his hands were buried deep in his pockets. 

At some point he stopped and risked a glance in my direction, so I hurriedly averted my eyes and looked at Yelena, who was busily typing on her cell phone. 

"There are so many nice bars here," she gave after a while, holding the smartphone under my nose.

I had to agree with her; there was something quaint about Irish bars and pubs, and for that reason they were not only pretty to look at, but also left a very cozy impression. 

"We should definitely visit one later. I don't think we'll have the chance tomorrow, and I can't leave Ireland without having a Guinness in one of these bars," the brown-haired girl added after showing me most of the pictures.   
Before I could say anything in reply, Jack, who had become aware of our conversation, suddenly interfered. "How about we all go to a bar together and toast the tour?"

His idea didn't even meet with Ben's disapproval, so Yelena was immediately assigned the task of picking out a bar that was in the immediate vicinity of Croke Park. 

After a while she finally found what she was looking for and immediately told Jack, who had meanwhile taken a seat with us. The two of them began to talk in an enthusiastic tone about the taste of Guinness and its composition, which is why my thoughts wandered off and I almost automatically had to think of my mother's message. 

In it, she had not only expressed how happy my father and she were to hear from me, but also that they were doing well. In the same breath she had asked me to visit them again in Houston. 

After taking a deep breath in and out, I began to type a short reply telling her that I would honor her request to finish my current assignment. 

While I was waiting for the text message to be sent, an airport employee suddenly showed up at our house, indicating that the tour bus had just arrived, was parked in front of the entrance, and was now ready to be moved in. 

For this reason, I let my cell phone slide back into my pants pocket, shouldered my backpack, and grabbed the handle of my suitcase, which was standing close by. I then tackled the heels of the other crew members, leaving behind the waiting area and, after a few steps, the entrance hall of the airport. 

The tour bus was in no way inferior to the private jet; although we only had relatively small berths instead of the spacious seats, which didn't exactly speak for privacy, they still gave a cozy impression. On the other hand, there were two toilets, a tiny bathroom with a shower, and even a kitchen with a few seats at the right end of the bus, which was so large that it far outstripped the one in my apartment. Just outside the driver's cabin at the opposite end was an additional relatively large sitting area with a flat-screen TV and a minibar.

Yelena and I occupied the top two bunks at the right end of the tour bus so we wouldn't have to do a half marathon through the nightliner to get to the restrooms at night.   
The band was setting up right at the other end, which is why I couldn't help but sigh more or less in relief; having to sleep near Ben Solo was just what I needed. 

While the bus driver drove in the direction of Croke Park, the brunette and I consecrated the seats of the kitchen and looked through the relatively large window outside, where the Dublin brightly lit by the numerous lights passed us. In the dark night sky, an infinite number of stars were already cavorting alongside the gray clouds, which is why the sight was even more breathtaking. 

"We really are in Europe," Yelena brought out with wide eyes. 

I nodded. "It's all so surreal somehow," I agreed with her and pulled out my phone to take a few pictures of the tour bus set up and the city passing by so that I would not only have them for documentation, but also to send to Lauren.

After a good half hour, the bus finally came to a stop in the private parking lot outside the backstage area of Croke Park. 

The truck with the stage equipment and pyrotechnics had been parked in the immediate vicinity. Kurt, Paul and JJ left its cab when they caught sight of the Nightliner. 

After the three of them had also spread out on three bunks with their luggage, which had been taken by the others, another short meeting with the owner of Croke Park was held. He told us what sanitary facilities were available, which of them we were allowed to use, and exactly where to find them. Then he added that there would be another meeting with the team at the stadium tomorrow so that we could go over exactly how to set up and run the tour opener. 

Before he left us again, he placed a map on the small table so that we could check again at any time, for example, where the showers were; after all, we couldn't all use the Nightliner's shower. 

Eventually, it was Jack who reminded everyone about the bar visit and told everyone to get ready for it. "You guys can shower in the morning, too," he announced, rolling his eyes. 

The blonde and I were the first to leave the bus. 

All the rain clouds had almost completely cleared away, which is why you could see the many stars even better by now. In addition, it was no longer as fresh as when we arrived, which is why I had only pulled a light blue denim jacket over my t-shirt. 

After us, the other crew members came stumbling out of the bus at regular intervals. 

When we were finally complete, Yelena started to move and, with the help of Google Maps, began to lead us to the bar, which, according to the calculated route, should be only a ten-minute walk from Croke Park. 

Ben Solo, who was walking behind me, was surprisingly quiet.

Every now and then I felt his gaze on me, but I skillfully blocked that out and instead talked to Yelena and Jack about The First Order's upcoming concert. He told us that this was the first time they were playing Croke Park on this tour, and that he was a little excited because of it; after all, the venue was not only foreign to the band, but intimidating due to its considerable size. 

Although I probably would never have admitted it out loud, I had to admit to myself that Jack wasn't the only one feeling some level of excitement. In the end, I didn't know exactly what was coming and how I would handle this whole thing in a possible pressure situation. 

Yelena, on the other hand, didn't seem the least bit nervous about the whole thing; rather the opposite. She could hardly wait for the first concert and her assignment as sound engineer.

Her voice again carried that enthusiasm for which I admittedly envied her a little. 

Finally, after ten minutes of walking, we actually came to a stop in front of the bar that we had looked at before in pictures in the airport. 

As I stepped through the wooden door, I was hit by the smell of fast food, which immediately made my stomach start to growl; Yelena and some other members of the crew seemed to feel the same way. 

Since there were so many of us, we had to spread out over several tables.  
  
The other guests eyed us with curious looks while we took our seats on the cushioned chairs.   
The blonde-haired one, who sat at a table with Kurt, Jack, Nat and me, directly reached for the menu. While she studied it in detail, even reading the most important items aloud, Kurt told us in passing about the trip to Croke Park. Paul, JJ and he had not been able to use the navigation system at all, which is why they had gotten fundamentally lost. It was only with the help of a local's directions that they finally got on the right track. 

Yelena held the menu under my nose, but I immediately passed it on to Nat, because I already knew what I was going to order.

Just a few minutes later, the waitress came over to take our order. 

My friend ordered a cheeseburger with fries and a Guinness; my choice, however, was the fast food plate. Beverage-wise, however, I agreed with the blonde; as did almost everyone else in our group. 

As the first batch of Guinness was brought to the table, Yelena's eyes began to sparkle. 

It wasn't long before everyone had their Irish beer in a glass mug in their hands, which is why we toasted to the upcoming tour together shortly after. 

The food was also not long in coming. 

While everyone was devouring their ordered dishes, the conversations were about various things, but mostly about the Rule The Galaxy tour and its sold-out concerts. In Europe, as well as in Australia and America, there was not a single ticket left to buy; the band's success seemed to have reached its peak.

I watched the whole situation with a smile on my lips and took a few photos for Lauren and my article as unobtrusively as possible. 

All of a sudden, I began to feel incredibly shabby about photographing the people I would have to work with on some level of trust over the next few weeks for the cover story of a magazine that seemed to have taken up gossip topics as of late. 

Fortunately, my thoughts began to dissolve into thin air as I emptied my fast food plate and ordered a second Guinness. 

Ben, who had been making a face like three days of rainy weather the whole time, rose from his chair and disappeared towards the exit without a word, which went unnoticed by most because many were still engrossed in their conversations. 

My eyes followed the black-haired man until the door finally slammed shut behind him. 

After I had finished the last of my chicken wings a short time later, I also excused myself briefly from my table and disappeared outside under the pretext of wanting to smoke a cigarette. 

Why was I so eager to follow Ben? I had no idea. It seemed more like a feeling that told me to follow him. 

There was no sign of the black-haired man far and wide, though, so I shook my head, barely noticeably, and pulled the Lucky Strike pack out of my jacket to light one of the many cigarettes. 

The cool night air nestled close to my body. The sky was almost cloudless by now, which is why I craned my neck to get a better view of the stars. The unpleasant tugging made itself felt once again; I tried to ignore it as best as I could, but despite that, I contorted my face painfully for a moment.

"Miss Niima. Have you been overdoing it again?"

I winced and wheeled around.

Ben was leaning casually against the wall, looking down at his cell phone, which was between his giant fingers. 

My eyebrows met in the middle. "Possibly."

He laughed. "You really can't take tips, can you? Completely no matter who they come from."

This time it was me who took a step toward him. "Carrying the stage equipment from A to B is part of my job, after all," I stated with a provocative undertone in my voice, blowing smoke in his direction. 

"Smoking, too? I see you still haven't taken my words to heart."

I wrinkled my nose. "At least I manage to wish my fellow man a good morning."  
Ben pushed himself off the wall, now closing the rest of the distance between us. "I don't know what you mean, Rey."

I recognized the twinkle in his eyes despite the darkness around us. 

Actually, I didn't want to answer anything more to his statement, to put out my cigarette and go back to the others. But the beer that was pumping through my veins along with the blood made sure that I couldn't keep my mouth shut. 

"You know exactly what I mean," I finally hissed.

Following that, I turned away from him and took a drag on my cigarette.

"Oh. Are you miffed because I didn't say good morning to you at the airport today?" he demanded to know. Even though I didn't dignify him with a glance, I knew his lips were wreathed in a broad grin.

I left his statement uncommented.

After a while, the black-haired one finally stepped next to me and gave me a sideways glance. "I'll just take that as a yes."

I couldn't disagree with him because we were suddenly interrupted by a man I had noticed across the street a while ago. He was standing just a few feet away from us before Ben's name left his mouth. 

After that, all I could see was the flash of his camera. 

Perplexed, I stumbled back several steps, so that I almost collided with the wall of the bar. 

Ben held his hands in front of his face before he turned his back to the man and gave me a meaningful look. With this look he wanted to tell me that I should go back to the bar. 

I nodded barely noticeably and stumbled towards the front door.   
Before I could push it open, I suddenly heard a resounding clap, closely followed by a loud clang. 

As I turned back in Ben's direction, I caught sight of the paparazzo lying on the floor with his camera. Ben had built himself up over it and was holding his clenched fist under his nose. "Leave me the fuck alone," he nagged, spitting on the ground next to the man.   
Without considering the possible repercussions of my action, I charged toward the black-haired man and grabbed his arm to pull him away from the paparazzo, whose complexion resembled a white wall. 

The singer of The First Order, however, did not move an inch; rather the opposite. Instead, he leaned forward slightly and threw another punch, causing the man on the ground to narrow his eyes. 

"Ben, stop!" Before I realized what I was doing, I released the black-haired man's arm and put myself between him and the paparazzi.

What happened next was as if in slow motion. 

Ben wrenched his eyes open in fright, knowing that he could no longer cancel his completed act. I held my breath, aware of what was about to happen. 

And so it finally happened that Ben Solo's fist made acquaintance with my chin. 

The blow was so powerful that I struggled to keep my balance for the first moment and staggered to the side, before I finally fell to the ground. 

"Shit," the black-haired one hissed and was immediately beside me. 

Meanwhile, I heard the paparazzi scramble to his feet, grab his camera, and hurl a few more expletives at Ben before finally making a run for it, leaving us alone in the darkness. 

My head was buzzing as everything kept spinning; I almost felt like I was on a never-ending roller coaster. 

With the dizziness came the unspeakable burning sensation that slowly but surely spread across the left side of my face. 

"Rey," Ben whispered, dropping to his knees so he could grab my shoulders with his hands and help me up. 

"Damn it, why can't you listen to what I'm telling you for once?" he demanded to know from me. 

I wanted to throw at him what an idiot he was and that he couldn't just go after paparazzi on a whim, but not a single word passed my lips. It almost felt as if I had forgotten how to speak.   
The black-haired man carefully put one arm under the back of my knees and the other around my shoulders so he could carry me back to the bar. 

I started another attempt to say something; but failed miserably. 

At the bar, he was immediately met by all the crew members and the rest of the band, who gathered around us with widened eyes. The other guests also gave us startled looks. 

The singer put me down as gently as possible on one of the benches, while someone shouted to the bartender to call an ambulance.

The last thing I heard before everything went black was Ben Solo saying a soft "I'm so sorry" before running his eyes through his hair and leaving the bar. 


	9. Chapter 9

"And you're sure you wouldn't rather rest?" Yelena asked with raised eyebrows, giving me a critical expression. 

I answered her question with a simple nod, while I examined myself in the large mirror that was located in one of the countless shower rooms of Croke Park. 

Dark circles appeared under my eyes, which was mainly due to the fact that after yesterday's events I had been sitting in the emergency room until about two o'clock in the morning waiting for an examination of my jawbone, which fortunately was not broken. 

However, Ben's powerful blow had nevertheless left me with a bruise and even a slight concussion.

Mindful of caution, I began to dab a wet cloth over the slightly bluish skin on my chin before subsequently covering it with powder. 

Despite the painkillers that the doctor had given me as a precaution, an unpleasant tugging sensation continued to run through me from time to time, sometimes even reaching my head, which was already hurting anyway. 

The blonde sighed. "Although I know the negative headlines and am well aware that Ben has a very hot-headed and provocative nature, I just can't believe that he would have continued to lash out at the paparazzo if you hadn't intervened."

She paused briefly before continuing. "He's in desperate need of help. I can imagine it can be incredibly annoying to be followed at every turn by flashbulbs and reporters asking you the most impossible questions. But an international superstar should be able to deal with the public and its pitfalls.... otherwise, sooner or later, his behavior will have a negative impact on the band's career."

Shrugging my shoulders, I flipped the little compact closed. "He'll be fine." 

Then I glanced in the mirror once more before finally turning to Yelena. "Well?"

She took a step closer and leaned forward slightly. "If I didn't know you had bruises on your chin, I definitely wouldn't see them."

Satisfied, I exhaled. "Good."

A moment of silence passed.

"Do you want to go to the stadium? As far as I know, most of it is already set up and the meeting with the Croke Park team is also long over, but we could do the sound check," the blonde-haired one suggested cautiously as we left the shower room. 

My gaze fell on the clock. "Sounds good to me. I have to go back to the tour bus for a bit first, though."

She smiled at me. "Want me to walk with you?"

I gulped. 

"No. You can go ahead and go to the stadium. It won't take long either! I just need to give my best friend a quick update on my current condition. Because if I don't get back to her soon, she's going to destroy my non-existent Chanel and Gucci bags," I replied, grinning in amusement as I remembered Lauren's and my last night together, and thus her promise. 

Yelena looked at me with a slightly confused expression, but then nodded. "All right. See you in a bit."

She gave me another quick wave before turning on her heel. 

With a pounding heart, I headed straight for the tour bus and tried to mentally prepare myself for the phone call that I would actually have with my boss and not with Lauren. 

I decided to send a short message to my best friend anyway, informing her about the latest events.

I then dialed Jane Parker's number, whose voice I heard after only the third ring. 

_"Miss Niima! I'm glad to hear from you. How are you doing alongside our celebrities? Have you caught up on some juicy information yet? Or have there already been any exciting incidents that you can use for your article?"_ she caught me off guard with her numerous questions. 

My eyes checked the surroundings one more time to make sure I was alone before I began to speak and report back to her. I told her about the incredibly long flight and the subsequent stay at the bar. In passing, I also mentioned that I had seen Ben and his girlfriend arguing near a restaurant the day before we left. 

I skillfully left the incidents of last night under the table, though; I just didn't have the nerve at the moment to go over the whole story one more time. 

_"Please continue to keep me informed, Miss Niima. I hope you'll reel in more successes in the next few days and write a terrific article. Keep in mind what's at stake and don't miss a beat,"_ my boss finally bid me farewell. 

A loud sigh escaped my mouth as I let the cell phone slide back into my pocket. 

I reviewed her words before finally getting moving and heading inside the stadium so that I could do the sound check of the instruments and microphones together with Yelena. 

As I walked past one of the four entrances, I suddenly caught sight of a large crowd that had already gathered in front of the countless bars. 

Wide-eyed, I walked up to Dean, who was standing off to the side, just talking to one of the security guys. 

"Rey! How are you today?" he immediately demanded to know from me.

"Good, thanks for asking. Are all these people already in line for admission?", I answered his question more or less with a counter question. 

He nodded. 

My eyebrows met in the middle. "But the concert doesn't start for a few hours, right?"

"That's right. But at The First Order, the fans are always there very early so they can make it to the front row, or at least the front section. Today, the first ones were even at the stadium relatively late. That's because it's usually the case that several people are already here at just after eight to secure a spot right behind the admission gates."

"Wow."

Dean laughed and in the same breath put a hand on my shoulder. "You can tell you've only worked for smaller bands before, Rey."

"To be exact, I've only worked for one school band so far," I mumbled so quietly he couldn't hear me.

"What?"

"Nothing. Thanks for telling me about it."

"You're welcome," he said, winking at me. 

After a quick wave, I turned away from him again and was about to continue on my way when I again caught sight of the people sitting on the floor in front of the bars, engaging each other in conversation. 

Some of them even had bags with them containing food and drinks.  
For a moment I paused and let the unusual situation sink in.

Afterwards, with a smile on my lips, I continued walking and carefully descended the steep stairs that led into the stadium's massive interior. 

Even from a distance, I recognized Yelena, who was excitedly skipping across the stage, making sure that the band's instruments were properly tuned. Just before I reached the stage door, the blondestepped up to the microphone, whereupon her voice echoed through the huge stadium. "Check, check. One, Two. One, Two. Check, Check." Then she raised her hand to signal Kurt, who was standing at the mixing board, to turn up the volume of the microphone a little more. 

"You're doing really well," I complimented my friend as I came to a stop next to her. 

The brown-haired one grinned at me and formed a soundless "thank you" with her lips. 

She then asked me, "Would you like to take over the other two microphones or control the drums?"

Since I couldn't even begin to remember how to tune a drum kit, I chose the microphones without hesitation.   
While speaking the same words into the head of the microphone that Yelena had said before, I began to imagine how the empty stadium would fill up with people in a few hours until, in the end, there was not a single seat left. Not only the thought of standing on this stage and performing in front of 85,000 people, but also the view took my breath away for a moment. 

After giving Kurt the signal that the volume of the microphone was optimally adjusted, I turned once around my own axis and absorbed the force of the stadium. 

"The view is incredible, isn't it?"

Ben Solo stepped up next to me and squinted his eyes, taking in the surrounding stands despite the glare of the sun. 

I didn't reply anything and instead just risked a quick glance in his direction. 

The singer of The First Order was wearing washed-out jeans and a dark gray T-shirt with a V-neck. Tucked into his hair, which for once didn't stick out in all directions but fell evenly to his shoulders, was a red bandana. 

"How's your chin?" he wanted to know from me after a while. 

Crossing my arms, I finally turned to the black-haired man. "I'm fine. You can stop pretending that you actually care about my well-being. After all, your leaving yesterday already showed that you don't care."

The undertone in my voice sounded more defiant than it was supposed to. 

"You still caught that?", Ben cleared his throat, avoiding my gaze and burying his hands deep in his pants pockets. 

"Yes," I answered his question curtly. 

He swallowed. "I'm sorry. I just had to get out of there." 

His brown eyes connected with mine again, which is why I put my bottom lip between my teeth almost automatically and started chewing on it. 

"That's exactly how you should react the next time you encounter a paparazzi; just walk away. Now, if you'll excuse me.... I have to get back to work so you can play a complication-free show for your fans tonight," I countered, weaving past him. 

"Rey?" he called my name after me. 

There it was suddenly again; the goosebumps. 

I turned to the black-haired one and eyed him with an expectant look. 

"At least we're kind of even now," he said with a hint of a grin, shrugging his shoulders. 

I rolled my eyes. 

I would have loved to give this arrogant snob the middle finger and additionally tossed at his head that there was probably no way to compare the coffee breakdown and the hook to the chin. 

Instead, however, I kept control of my emotions and put on a good face.   
Yelena gave me a meaningful look as I joined her. 

She opened her mouth to say something; however, closed it again when I waved it off and in the same breath barely noticeably shook my head. 

"He's not worth the calories I burn when I get upset with him." 

The blonde held her hand over her lips and tried with difficulty to refrain from laughing out loud. 

Once she had calmed down to some extent, we got back to work. 

I checked the third and last microphone and then inconspicuously looked over Yelena's shoulder while she was tuning the drums, so that I could at least refresh my knowledge a little and thus rule out the possibility of a dicey situation in the future.

After we had finished the sound check of the instruments and the microphones, the remaining band members joined Ben, who had meanwhile settled down on the floor at the edge of the stage and spread some sheets in front of him. 

Presumably, it was the setlist and the roughly prepared announcements between songs.   
"Since we're done here, I'd suggest we go see if the catering is set up yet. I'm hungry," my friend said, crossing her petite arms in front of her chest. 

I sighed, "You kind of remind me of my best friend."

"Why? Does she love food as well?" she countered as she started to move. 

Laughing, I went after her and replied, "Yes."

Suddenly, an unpleasant tugging sensation made itself felt again. I instantly stopped laughing and put my right hand on the aching spot. 

Before my eyes everything began to spin for a moment and I was afraid of losing my balance, which is why I clung to the next best object I could get my hands on.

I let a few seconds pass before releasing the object, which turned out to be a spare microphone stand. 

Yelena was immediately beside me; concern was evident on her features. "Rey, are you all right?"

By the more or less loud tone of her voice, she drew not only my attention, but also that of Nat, Scott, Jack, and Ben. 

"Yeah. I just got dizzy for a minute," I answered quickly and immediately hooked up with the brown-haired one, who was still looking at me a little skeptically. 

"Yelena... it's alright. Even with mild concussions, it's quite possible to have dizzy spells from time to time. So you don't have to worry," I insisted, pulling her to the stairs at the side of the stage so we could descend them together. 

"Whatever you say," she gave out with a sigh.

Even though I didn't turn around once as we walked increasingly away from the stage, I knew Ben Solo's guilty gaze was on me. 


	10. Chapter 10

The next time I looked out of the window of the nightliner, we were already in Cardiff. 

Since the dizziness and the headache did not want to disappear yesterday even with the help of painkillers, I had been condemned by Yelena and Kurt to take it easy in my bunk. So I had not only slept through the opening concert of the tour, but also more or less through the crossing to Wales. 

Today, however, I was feeling better again, which is why I had already peeled myself out of bed early in the morning to visit the sanitary facilities of the Millennium Stadium and take a shower.

The cold water splashed on my back and made sure that even the last bit of tiredness was banished from my body. 

After 20 long minutes, I finally stepped out of the shower stall and began drying my hair with the small travel hair dryer that I had received as a gift from my mother sometime during my high school days.A glance in the slightly fogged mirror told me that my chin was still shimmering with a bluish hue. Despite that, it didn't look quite as bad as it had yesterday, which is why I barely had to cover it with powder. 

After my hair was halfway dry, I slipped into my clothes and headed back to the tour bus. 

Due to the bright blue sky and the warm sun, which sent its powerful rays already at this early morning hour on earth, I decided for a walk in the fresh air, why I exchanged the toilet bag including hair dryer for cell phone and headphones. 

A mild breeze blew around my legs, which were wrapped in a pair of holey pants, while I put the earplugs in my ears and once again listened to the sounds of my favorite Paramore album.

The streets weren't too busy yet; every now and then I encountered a few joggers and other pedestrians strolling relaxed through the streets.  
  
When I reached the entrance of a relatively large park, my eyes fell on the clock, which fortunately showed me that I still had enough time until the meeting with the stadium's security team would start.   
And so it finally came to pass that I entered the laid-out path, which was covered by countless pebbles and seemed to lead once through the entire park. 

Every now and then I paused briefly in my movement, closed my eyes for a few seconds and breathed deeply in and out.

Eventually I came to a stop in front of a bench that offered such a tempting spot in the sun that I could no longer resist the urge to sit down. "Just a few minutes," I thought, leaning back with my eyes closed. 

The sun's rays burned pleasantly on my skin and I could literally feel myself slowly regaining some color.

A relaxed sigh slipped from my mouth. 

But suddenly not only the warmth but also the light had disappeared, so I opened my eyes and blinked in confusion. When I caught sight of the cause, I rolled my eyes. "Why did I suspect it?", I asked myself in my mind, pulling the right earphone out of my ear and putting my hands on my hips. 

"Are you stalking me?", I asked him the question he had thrown at me outside Arcadia’s a few days ago. Ben grinned. "No."

"Are you sure?", I echoed, pressing my lips together, making them form a straight line.

Now he was the one rolling his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be taking it easy?" he skillfully changed the subject. 

"I'm fine," I brought out through gritted teeth. "Now, could you please get out of the sun for me? If I wanted to sit in the shade, I would have chosen another bench."

Against my wishes that he would get moving and leave me alone again, the black-haired one took a seat right next to me and crossed his arms behind his head.

I suppressed an annoyed snort. 

An uncomfortable silence then began to settle over both of us, but after a while it was interrupted by the singer's voice. "What are you listening to?" he asked, and in the same breath reached for the free headphones so that he could put them in his ear and thus answer the posed question for himself. 

Eyes widening, I turned in his direction to complain that he had simply taken over my earbud without asking my permission first. But he beat me to it. "You listen to Paramore?"

A little perplexed, I returned his intense stare. "Y-yes. You know that band?"

"Of course. It's largely because of Paramore and Green Day that I wanted to be a musician so badly and ended up starting The First Order."

"Oh," I gave meekly, staring at my hands. "Paramore has been my favorite band for years."

"Then I guess we do have something in common," my counterpart smiled. Although I resisted, I suddenly felt closer to the black-haired man than I ever had before. 

Risking a sideways glance in his direction, I saw Ben's eyebrows meet in the middle. "I have to confess that I never would have expected Paramore to be your favorite band."

"I'm just full of surprises," I said, shrugging my shoulders and closing my eyes for a few seconds. 

"For once, I have to agree with you on that point. However, I'm even more surprised now that you always seem so bored and unimpressed when you hear us play. We do a slightly darker rock than Paramore, but the band still - especially in our early days - influenced us a lot musically."

Brown met brown. 

"And exactly the gloomy part is my problem. Maybe if you didn't sound so... whiny all the time, I would find the depressing mood your music brings less disturbing. Please don't get me wrong! You really do have a beautiful voice, but I find that you use it in all the wrong places, in addition to not using it to its fullest," I replied honestly, blinking away a tiny tear that had formed in the corner of my right eye due to the glare of the sun.

Ben seemed to ponder my words before he began to speak again. "Thank you, but I think I know what I'm doing and how to use my voice properly."  
His undertone suggested he was offended.   
I sighed. "You punched me in the jaw the day before yesterday for saving you from doing something really stupid, and you just disappeared for several hours after that. So please don't hold it against me now that I just gave you my honest and, moreover, factually worded opinion."

He pulled my headphones out of his ear to hold them out to me. "Why did you do that, anyway?"

I took the plug between my fingers. "Why I told you my opinion?"

He gritted his teeth. "No. Why did you get in between that fucking paparazzi and me when I gave you a clear sign beforehand to go back to the bar?"

Shrugging my shoulders, I avoided his insistent gaze and started playing with the loose headphones. "I don't know. It was a feeling; almost an instinct. I just knew I had to do it and completely disregarded the possible consequences." 

"I'm really sorry all of this happened."

I had no guarantee whatsoever that he really meant it. And yet, deep down, I sensed that his statement was true. 

"I survived it, after all," I waved it off, and secretly caught myself beginning to gradually forgive the black-haired one. 

Yelena's words about how it must be a difficult life when you were followed at every turn echoed through my head again. This fact did not justify his action at all, but I began to understand it a bit anyway.

After a brief pause in speech, I cleared my throat and held my index finger threateningly under the nose of The First Order singer.

"However, if you ever compare that chin hook to the coffee breakdown one more time, you'll regret it," I informed him with a menacing glint in my eye, and then crossed my arms in front of my chest. 

Ben raised his hands defensively. "All right, all right. I hereby make you a solemn promise that this won't happen again."

"Good." A smirk settled on my lips.   
I probably would never have admitted it out loud, but at that moment, despite his many negative traits, I felt sympathetic to Ben Solo for the first time.

It even felt almost normal to talk to him. 

Again, a silence fell over us; this time, however, it was not an unpleasant one. And again it was broken only a few moments later by the singer. "Do you realize that this is the first time we're talking to each other without hurling vile comments at each other?" he remarked, now grinning as well.  
  
"True," I agreed with him. 

"What are you doing up already, anyway? And what brings you to the park?", I ultimately asked the two questions that had been burning on my tongue since his arrival.

"I get up early every morning so I can go jogging in peace. After all, in the morning the streets and parks are still so empty that I can move around unrestricted. After all, I have to keep fit somehow during the tour so that I can keep up with the strenuous shows," the black-haired man explained, stifling a yawn. 

Only now did I notice that for once he wasn't wearing washed-out jeans or one of his famous black pants and had instead thrown on some sporty clothes. 

"And what about you? Where are your cigarettes? Have you come to your senses after not even two days of physical work and finally hung up smoking?" he asked with a mischievous grin. 

At first I wanted to protest and tell him that he shouldn't jeopardize our truce. But then I suddenly realized that I hadn't touched a single cigarette since the altercation outside the bar, even though I had been subjected to immense stress almost continuously.

"My cigarettes are empty and I haven't found a suitable opportunity to buy a new pack yet," the hair-pulling excuse slipped out of my mouth.

"Whatever you say," Ben merely replied and winked at me; for he had noticed 100 percent that my statement was not true. 

The black-haired one rose from the bench without warning. "I'm going to keep jogging now. You should definitely check out our show today and pay attention to the songs. Our lyrics are much deeper than you think. And I'm going to try extra hard not to sound too whiny," he said goodbye to me and, without waiting for a reaction from me, turned on his heel. 

Taken by surprise and a little bit disconcerted at the same time, I looked after him until I couldn't see him anymore.

After about ten minutes, I finally decided to make my way back to Millennium Stadium so I wouldn't be late for the meeting. 

As I crossed the street that would take me straight to the back entrance of the stadium, I became aware of a small gathering of people who had placed themselves close to the entrance gates. 

In the first moment I thought that they were fans again, but then I got to see the many cameras, which were all directed to the same point. 

With a furrowed brow I stopped and stood on my tiptoes to find out what the paparazzi wanted to get in front of their lenses at any cost. 

And then I spotted Jack.

The brown-haired man was standing with his back to the reporters, frantically typing away on his cell phone as he nervously raised his head again and again, scanning his surroundings with his gaze. 

I didn't know what to do, so at first I just stood helplessly on the side of the road and tried to analyze the dicey situation. 

A short time later, when one of the reporters suddenly pulled out a large microphone, only to shove it under Jack's nose from the side and ask him some brazen questions, I couldn't hold back any longer. 

"Jack?", I shouted impetuously and stood on my tiptoes again. 

Several paparazzi turned in my direction to see who was calling out for the bassist of The First Order. Since they probably thought I was just a fan, most of them immediately turned away from me. 

Jack, on the other hand, didn't hear my calls until the fourth time.   
His head instantly shot up; our eyes connected. From his facial features, I could tell that he would have loved to shed a few tears of relief.  
With quick steps and the use of his elbows, the bassist tried to fight his way through the pack, only to take me by the hand and run down the street with me. 

"What's going on?", I demanded to know from him as we fled from the press. 

"Do you have your backstage pass with you? Otherwise, we're in big trouble now." I nodded.

"Good, come with me, we have to get to the other entrance. I'll explain the rest when we're back on the safe side," he told me breathlessly, and continued to pull me along behind him. 

Just before we arrived at our destination, not only did the pulling in my jaw and head make itself felt, but so did the twinge in my untrained lungs. I had to cough a few times before I reached into my pants pocket, pulled out my ID and placed it on the scan of the heavy metal door, which subsequently popped open with a soft click. 

Jack closed the door behind us in a flash before we stumbled towards the parked Nightliner, disappearing from the sight of the paparazzi who had indeed followed us to this entrance. 

Completely out of breath, I dropped to the ground as carefully as I could.   
The bassist joined me not a second later with two water bottles he had fetched from the kitchen in the bus. 

"Thanks," I said, reaching for the bottle. 

The cold water wet my throat, which is why I immediately began to feel better. 

"How did you get into this hopeless situation anyway?", I wanted to know from the brown-haired man and gave him an expectant look. 

"I still had my backstage ID in the pants I was wearing yesterday and didn't realize it until it was already too late. Of course, the battery of my cell phone wasn't charged either, which is why I had to use it sparingly. And of course, as is usually the case at such times, no one I called answered." He sighed. "So I was a sitting duck for the reporters who usually hang around the venue on concert days, just waiting for mishaps like this."

I shook my head in disbelief. "This is insane."  
"You’ve got a point there. The intrusiveness of the press is, among other things, one of the reasons why we have now stopped staying in hotels and switched to the nightliner. Here we're protected from the outside world by a fence and can move around reasonably freely, which unfortunately is no longer possible in a hotel."

He paused briefly to take a drink. Then he continued speaking, "We once booked the entire hotel on our last tour to establish something like a comfort zone. However, one of the doormen was on the take. I think you can guess how the whole thing turned out."

I nodded wordlessly, not knowing what to say in response. 

I was at a loss for words for the first time in a long time, and I was slowly but surely becoming more and more able to understand why Ben so often lost control of himself and his emotions. 

And when I realized that I wasn't one bit better than all the paparazzi who were crowding in front of the entrance gates and the entrance to the backstage area, I held my breath for a moment before swallowing hard. 

To be precise, I was actually even worse than the reporters.  
  
For I had penetrated the band's comfort zone by lying in order to write a juicy cover story about Ben Solo.


	11. Chapter 11

The last few days had not only been incredibly exhausting, but had also flown by. 

Although today was already the fourth concert of the Rule The Galaxy tour, I had not managed to follow the performance completely and attentively. 

While in Cardiff it had been a multitude of technical problems that had kept the other crew members and me on our toes all evening, in London I had to spend most of the show in the tour bus due to my recurring headache.   
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. 

Although I probably would never have admitted it out loud, I had to slowly but surely admit to myself that despite the incredible stress, I was enjoying the life of a roadie and was even looking forward to preparing for the upcoming concert in Paris. 

In addition, I found myself secretly hoping that I would be able to see The First Order perform today. 

Barely noticeably, I shook my head, then rolled onto my side and pushed the curtain of my bunk a little to the left so I could look outside. The sun was already peeking over the horizon, which is why the color of the sky changed from a dark blue to a mixture of orange and red. 

I blinked. 

A glance at my cell phone told me that it was just after six and that we had been on French soil for some time. 

According to Google Maps, it would take us about an hour to get to Paris, so after a big yawn I sat up and pulled my laptop as silently as possible out of my backpack, which I had placed at the foot of the bunk. 

I then opened my writing program and created a new document to roughly document the events of the last few days. Although I was reluctant to do so, I did not omit any event; not even the messy confrontation with the paparazzi outside the bar in Dublin. 

As my hands flew over the dimly lit keys of the laptop with an ease, I occasionally heard a soft snore coming from the direction of Yelena's bunk.  
A small grin crept onto my lips.

Following that, I had to rub my eyes again, which were burning with fatigue, before I created a cluster in addition to the notes and placed Ben's name in the middle. Lost in thought, I wrote down what I had come to know of the singer so far, bit by bit in the form of adjectives or short bullet points, until the page was relatively well filled. 

Since I was to focus primarily on Ben Solo in my cover story, I created a kind of collection document for the remaining band members of The First Order that I filled in the same way as Ben's document - but much more succinctly.

After I had made and saved all my notes, I closed the laptop again and put it back into my backpack so that I could lie down on my ear for a few minutes.

Silently, I dropped onto my back and stared at the ceiling of my bunk.  
My thoughts were still circling around the last days of what was probably the greatest adventure of my life so far, which I had only embarked on so that I would not lose my job. 

Suddenly, Jane Parker's face appeared in my mind's eye, telling me once again that I absolutely had to take advantage of this incredible opportunity to obtain juicy information for my cover story.

At some point, I finally managed to block out the annoying voice of my boss, whereupon my eyelids finally fell shut. 

But before I could drift off into the world of dreams, I suddenly heard a loud thump; closely followed by a hissed "Damn."

Startled, I jerked my eyes open. 

The sound of heavy footsteps reached my ears. "I can't talk to you on the phone right now, Maia. It's a little after six, everyone's still asleep. What-? Of course I'm on the tour bus. What were you thinking? We just came from England and we're on our way to Paris right now."

Even though I hadn't seen his face, I could be pretty sure it was Ben from the deepness of his voice.

"Could you please stop accusing me of never having time for you? You knew what you were getting into from the start." He walked past my bunk, presumably to take a seat in the kitchen seating area. And although the black-haired man took great pains to keep his voice as quiet as possible, I could understand almost every word he said without any problem. "Maia, please. I really don't have a head for this right now."

After that, the singer, who was probably on the phone with his girlfriend, didn't say anything for a while. 

"What are you trying to tell me now?" he finally asked in a slightly harsher tone.

Nervously, I took my lower lip between my teeth and chewed on it until an iron taste spread in my mouth.

"I know our situation is far from easy. But if you were truly in love with me, you would fight for us and not just give up, Maia."

I gulped and began to feel incredibly bad for overhearing an intimate conversation that was definitely not meant for my ears. 

Just as I decided to pull my headphones out of the side pocket of my backpack and drown out Ben's private matters with music, I suddenly heard a loud thud, which went through my spine. 

"Shit!" the black-haired one shouted. "Fucking shit."

Involuntarily, I flinched. 

And then, all at once, another voice joined Ben's. "Thanks for waking me up, buddy," I heard Jack say, stifling an extensive yawn. 

"Sorry about that," Ben gave out and sighed. 

The soft crunch of the seat cushion reached my ears, which must mean Jack had joined Ben. "What happened?" the brown-haired man then demanded to know from the singer. 

Ben took several minutes with his answer. 

"Maia just broke up with me," he finally gave.

The bassist sighed, "Do you really think it's over for good? You've wanted to break up so many times, and yet in the end you've always found your way back together."  
"I'm very sure it's really over this time, Jack."

The addressed man blew the pent-up air out of his lungs. "Then I'm really sorry it turned out this way, Ben."

The black-haired one began to laugh. "Don't be sorry about that. It was only a matter of time before it happened.... like it always does." And then I heard him get up and walk past my bunk to return to his sleeping place. 

I tried to swallow down the rising feeling of pity and convulsively find my way to sleep so that I would make it through the day ahead. 

Before I finally succumbed to the darkness, Ben's last words echoed through my head once more. 

Just a few hours later, the world looked different again.

Yelena, Kurt, a few other crew members and I were scurrying from side to side on stage at the Stade de France, checking once again that all the instruments were wired correctly so that the band could start their sound check shortly. 

I blanked out the morning phone call as best I could. 

It wasn't until Nat, Jack and Scott showed up on stage without the black-haired singer that the conversation between Ben and Maia came back to the forefront. 

"Ben will not be attending sound check today," I heard the bassist say, who then filled his bandmates in on the latest happenings. 

Scott rolled his eyes and ruffled his hair afterwards. "I understand he's hurting. A breakup is never a nice thing. But that's still no reason not to show up for soundcheck and thus leave us hanging. After all, we're playing a sold-out concert today in front of over 80,000 people!"

Jack put an arm around the redhead's shoulder. "We'll rock the boat."

Scott sighed before nodding, barely noticeable. 

After a few seconds, Nat, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up. "I'm going to go look for him." 

"And what about the soundcheck?"  
The blonde shrugged. "One of us should go check on him. Not that the situation will get out of hand again and we'll have to cancel the concert just before it starts. I'd like to spare us all that embarrassment."

"I should go look for him. The drums play a much more important role than the bass. Besides, I was sort of there when she broke up with him. And after all, he texted me that he wasn't going to show up for sound check," Jack replied in a firm voice, silencing Nat, who wanted to contradict his statement, with a meaningful look. 

"All right," the drummer relented.

The three of them joined hands for a moment before finally swarming out in different directions. 

My eyes fell on the other crew members, who had only superficially overheard the band's conversation and had gathered at the mixer on stage right to hold a meeting. 

I actually wanted to join them, but my legs carried me in exactly the opposite direction. And before I knew it, I had left the stage behind me all at once so that I could stumble after the bass player, who would go in search of Ben. 

"Jack, wait!", I called out, at which point the brown-haired one stopped and turned to me with an expectant look on his face.

I cleared my throat. "I'd like to help you."

He looked at me a little surprised and paused for a moment before finally nodding. "All right. Come on," he urged me and started moving in the same breath. 

Our first destination was the Nightliner, which was, however, empty except for a few members of the crew.

We then decided to check out the sanitary facilities that the Stade de France had to offer, but even there we were still in the dark. 

After circling the inside of the stadium once, we came to a stop again in front of the tour bus. 

"What if he's gone for a jog and he's not even on the stadium property?", I informed the brown-haired man thoughtfully, crossing my arms in front of my chest. After that, I let my eyes glide over the surroundings. "Because I don't know where else he could be."

The person addressed sighed loudly. "I haven't thought about that at all. Damn!"

"Should we go around the outside of the stadium again? Maybe he's found a place to retreat somewhere in the immediate vicinity," I suggested. 

Jack waved it off. "I don't think he would do that. There could be paparazzi lurking around every corner."

"It's still worth a try."

He seemed to ponder my words before blowing the pent-up air from his lungs. "You're right." And then he left me alone to go into the Nightliner.  
  
After a while, he reappeared in front of me. His brown hair was tucked under the hood of his hoodie and a pair of large sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose, which is why he was finally unrecognizable as the bassist of The First Order. 

"We still have to be careful. It's happened before that my cover has been blown," he told me as we left the fenced-off area of the stadium behind us.  
We made a wide circle around the entrance gates, where countless fans were already milling about. 

"You're probably already regretting applying to be a crew member for The First Order, aren't you?", Jack wanted to know from me with a grin. 

"If you only knew," I mused, biting my lower lip. 

"No."

"Do you even know how tough you are? Ben's condescending remarks, the hook to the chin.... Anyone else would probably have thrown down by now if they were you."

"To be honest, I've gotten used to his mood swings as well as the sayings by now." I shrugged. "The hook to the chin was an accident. And I'm not really that tough.... After all, you've even seen me cry."

Jack gave me a penetrating sideways glance. "I think you're an incredibly strong woman."  
I felt a blush spreading across my cheeks, so I thanked the brown-haired man with a tight smile. 

I then turned my gaze back to the surroundings. 

The Stade de France was surrounded by the highway, numerous houses and several normal streets. In addition, there was a small sports field and a green area in the immediate vicinity, which were even used by several people for sports purposes; however, there was still no trace of Ben Solo. 

"This search is useless ", said the brown-haired one, after we had now also circled the stadium from the outside and checked its surroundings. 

"Let's go back."

I nodded. 

Before we could make our way back, however, we were suddenly stopped by a small group. 

Before any of the young women could even open their mouths, I guessed they had recognized Jack, despite his sunglasses and hoodie pulled low on his face.

"Can we maybe take a picture?" the tallest of them asked, confirming my suspicions. 

Jack answered in the affirmative, whereupon the black-haired one thrust her cell phone into my hand. 

Then the four women spread out to Jack's right and left, all putting on their best smiles. I pressed the shutter several times so that there would definitely be a photo that would satisfy them. 

Afterwards, I handed the phone back to her. 

"I didn't know you had a girlfriend by now," the one suddenly said in Jack's direction after her eyes had rested on me for a moment. She pursed her lips into a pout and batted her eyelashes. 

I opened my eyes in fright and wanted to deny her statement, but the words stuck in my throat. 

Instead, I looked at Jack.   
The brown-haired man scratched the back of his head in embarrassment as he expertly avoided my gaze. "She's not my girlfriend," he cleared his throat and threw a smile. 

The young women began to giggle. 

I looked down at my feet, trying not to let on what shameful feelings the current circumstances were causing inside me. 

The bass player gave me a quick look. "We have to move on now, I'm afraid. I hope you have fun at the show later," he then bid a curt farewell to the group, and with a nod, signified to me that we should return to the stadium without delay.

I immediately started to move and ran after the bassist with hurried steps, who was recognized on the way, however, from time to time by other fans and asked for pictures or autographs. 

Even among them I did not remain undiscovered; many eyed me and began to whisper among themselves afterwards. Every now and then I picked up a few scraps of words and phrases, which mostly included the question "Who is she?". 

The situation was getting more and more uncomfortable, so I exhaled with relief when we finally arrived backstage.

In the meantime it was only three hours until the entrance and there was still no trace of the singer. 

Jack thanked me with a short hug for my help and apologized once again for the incident with the small group, before he told his band colleagues about our failure. 

Yelena caught my eye by saying, "Why didn't you let me know you were going to help with the search? I was worried that you were getting worse again because you suddenly left" around my neck. 

I returned my friend's hug and apologized to her. 

Because of the unsuccessful search, there was now an icy mood not only among the members of the band, but also among the crew, which was mainly characterized by uncertainty. 

Because if Ben would not show up in time, this meant a cancellation of the concert. 

The atmosphere had not improved even during the catering; everyone seemed to be on hot coals. 

"I don't understand why he's abandoning his bandmates like this. A breakup really sucks to say the least, but it's far from a reason to drop everything and just disappear like that," Yelena said, earning a lot of approval for her words from the rest of the crew.

"In my opinion, he's completely overwhelmed with the notoriety of The First Order and his position in the public eye," Kurt commented before shoving a spoonful of potato salad into his mouth.

I tried to tune out my colleagues' conversations and focus on the food.   
However, when Scott, Nat, and Jack were discussing whether to tell Mace Windu and Padmé Amidala about Ben's disappearance, I perked up. 

"What if we try to call him again?" asked Jack. 

Scott shook his head. "That won't do any good. I called him every five minutes for an entire hour immediately after soundcheck."

"Okay. Then we should let Empire know so they still have enough time to write a press release," the bassist finally relented. 

Nat nodded, barely noticeably, and set aside her silverware. 

Just as the drummer was about to reach for the phone to inform management, which had largely stayed out of tour affairs at the band's request, of the current crisis, the door suddenly opened. 

Ben Solo stumbled into the room. 

"Hello friends," he shouted and then began to laugh loudly.

Everyone looked at the black-haired man, no one said anything. 

"Why are you all pulling such long faces? Did someone die?" he demanded to know with a raised eyebrow, while on his lips there was a big grin. 

Scott was the first to stir.   
He jumped to his feet to grab his bandmate by the shirt and push him against the wall. "You fucking asshole! You fucking selfish asshole!" he hissed, clenching his free hand into a fist. 

Ben's grin still hadn't faded, which only made the redhead more furious. 

The bassist got up from his chair in a flash and walked between his two friends without batting an eye. "All right, let's all just calm down for now."

Scott reluctantly let go of the singer and tigered around the room once before rejoining Nat, who had been watching the whole scene with wide eyes. 

Jack grabbed Ben's arm and pulled him toward the table of his bandmates. "We're going to handle this situation like adults now and talk about it." 

"That was the cue. Come on, let's go," Yelena murmured, nodding in the direction of the other crew members who had already risen to leave the room, leaving the band alone. 

I nodded and picked up the plates and cutlery so I could place them on the cart that had been placed next to the table with the various dishes. 

"Ben... have you been drinking?" was the last thing I heard before the door slammed shut behind me. 

On the way to the stadium, there was a lively exchange of words between my colleagues. I picked up things like "The breakup really took a lot out of him," "How can he get drunk before a sold-out concert?" or "He's the most selfish person I've ever met." 

A thick lump had formed in my throat, which is why I could barely swallow. 

"Rey, are you all right? You're so quiet," I heard Yelena ask.

"Yes," I replied curtly. 

Shortly after we arrived at the stage area to check everything once again, the entrance began.

I stood to the side of the stage and watched the countless people who were streaming down the steep stairs and then running at incredible speeds to the front of the interior, which was filling up relatively quickly, unlike the stands and the blocks. 

My friend, Kurt and Dean joined me after a while. 

"No matter how many times you get to see this sight.... it's breathtaking every time," Kurt said. 

Dean and Yelena agreed with him. 

"Do you think Ben will be able to successfully manage the concert?" the words suddenly spilled out of my mouth.

The three of them gave me more or less surprised looks. 

Kurt put an arm around my shoulders. "Are you worried about him?"

"No," I said far too quickly, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "I'd just feel incredibly sorry for the fans if they didn't get a good concert for all their money and patience," I added as an afterthought, removing Kurt's arm from my shoulders. 

The blond-haired one raised his hands defensively and gave a "It's okay" before making off with Dean. 

Yelena, still standing next to me, gave me a meaningful sideways glance. "You're definitely worried."

I opened my mouth to contradict her, but she beat me to it. "Don't even try to push something else on me. I've been watching you a lot today, and you've been incredibly tense most of the day. You kept looking around and were anything but focused. It wasn't until Ben walked through the door at catering that you loosened up a bit. Until you realized he'd been drinking."

Caught off guard, I pressed my lips together. 

The blonde-haired one sighed. "Why are you worried, Rey? If he was a courteous, loving man, I'd understand. But he's an unkind egotist who puts his own well-being above even that of his closest friends. He's put you down so many times.... Not to mention that punch to the chin."

I ran a hand through my hair. 

"I just feel sorry for him, okay?" it blurted out of me. 

The blonde eyed me with her brown eyes. "Okay," she finally replied, shrugging her shoulders. "He still doesn't deserve it."

And then she turned away from me. 

"I know," I mused, leaning back against a light pole as my gaze rested on the sunset in the distance. 

The next time I looked up, the concert was about to begin. 

There was a flurry of activity not only on the stage, but also in the audience area. The faces of the people all wore different emotions; some were completely out of their minds because of their anticipation, others made an annoyed impression because they were eagerly awaiting the start of the concert and were fed up with the waiting. 

Overall, however, many happy faces were looking at me.  
  
A few minutes later, the band suddenly appeared next to me so that the individual members could all be equipped with in-ear monitoring. After that, Jack as well as Scott and Ben were handed their respective guitars, while Nat had to settle for a handful of drumsticks. 

Although I retreated as unobtrusively as possible, Ben's eyes landed squarely on me; it was almost as if they were magnets attracted to me, the pole. 

The black-haired one winked at me. 

And when he staggered onto the stage with the others afterwards, I knew that this concert would not have a good ending.


	12. Chapter 12

**THE FIRST ORDER SINGER APOLOGIZES TO HIS FANS**

_The reason for the apology was his performance at the Stade de France in Paris, because Ben Solo aka "Kylo Ren" was drunk._

_The currently probably most famous music group in the world has almost not been able to finish any of their songs, because Solo has repeatedly interrupted the pieces with a "stop"._

_"I want to apologize to you for yesterday's performance," the 30-year-old wrote on his Twitter account. "Unfortunately I drank too much before the concert and played a crappy show. It won't happen again."_

_Fans of the rock band had a mixed reaction to Solo's apology, which now has around five hundred thousand retweets._

_"Drunk on stage is an absolute no-go!" wrote one. "I was so looking forward to your performance and you blew it! The First Order never live again," responded another. But many also showed understanding, writing things like, "As long as it doesn't happen again," or "Go to the theater if you want to see sober musicians. You won't even find them there."_

_I wonder if Ben Solo's failure has anything to do with his alleged breakup with longtime girlfriend Maia Lee._

The article I had just read had been just one of countless that had been posted online. 

With a sigh, I locked the screen of my cell phone before I let my gaze slide into the dark night sky that had been overshadowing Paris for several hours. 

Despite yesterday's events, Yelena and I had taken a sightseeing tour of Paris on our off-day today, together with Kurt and a few other crew members. Not only had we been to the Eiffel Tower, but we had also strolled down the Champs-Élysées, probably the most impressive street of all time. Also the Sacré-Coeur, Notre-Dame and the Louvre had not been missing of course. 

Therefore, I had been exhausted when we finally returned to the tour bus. 

In the meantime, however, yawning emptiness reigned in this again, since almost all had left for a common bar visit, which I, despite Yelena's persuasion, had renounced. 

Instead, I now sat in my bunk, staring out the window and counting the stars. 

Although I was already feeling a certain amount of fatigue, after a while I decided to take a little walk in the fresh air before I would eventually take a shower and go to sleep.

The night air was so warm that I didn't even need a jacket. 

As I walked to the green space that Jack and I had searched for Ben yesterday, my brain was flooded with countless thoughts swirling around in a big jumble. Not only the scene that had occurred yesterday at the catering, but Ben's behavior during the concert still haunted me. 

The way he had moved on stage; the way he had talked to the audience.   
I bit my lower lip and started chewing on it. 

The ringing of my cell phone finally snapped me out of my muddled thoughts. 

"Lauren," I said delightedly after answering her call. 

_"Rey! How are you doing? Is everything all right? I just read the latest headline.... sounds pretty bad,"_ she burst in. 

"I'm fine...which I don't think you can say about Ben. His girlfriend broke up with him early yesterday, which is why the whole situation got a little out of hand."

 _"So the rumors are true,"_ she stated.

"Yes. But how are you doing? How are things at work?", I countered.

_"Thanks for asking. I'm doing well, too. Jane Parker is driving us all crazy, but that's nothing new. How's your article coming along?"_

With difficulty, I stifled a yawn. "I'm taking lots of notes and have already created a cluster or two."

_"Do you have some juicy information yet, too?"_

I hesitated. "Possibly."

_"Possibly?"_

"That's the point, Lauren. I-I don't know if I can really write this story. Ben can be an arrogant egotist at times, but he's really in a bad way right now. The other band members and he can hardly move freely because there are fans or paparazzi lurking around every corner. Then there are all the negative headlines and rumors.... can you imagine how bad that must be? After all, all four of them are normal people at the end of the day," I poured my heart out to my best friend. 

Lauren sucked in a sharp breath. _"I understand that you feel bad for them. I really do. They're to be pitied, too. But you have to write this story, Rey. Otherwise, you can say goodbye to your job."_

Just as I was about to answer her, a painful moan suddenly reached my ears. 

My eyebrows met in the middle. 

_"Rey?"_

Cautiously, I put one foot in front of the other and walked in the direction from which the sound had come. 

_"Rey, are you still there?"_ demanded Lauren to know. 

And then I spotted Ben Solo sitting on the floor in the dim light, holding his ankle through clenched teeth. 

"Lauren? I have to go," was all I said, ending the conversation with my best friend, who protested loudly before I pushed her away and let my phone slide into my back pocket. 

I walked closer to the black-haired man. "Ben?"

He flinched. "Rey?" he asked, visibly confused, looking at me with wide eyes. 

"What are you doing here?"  
"I could ask you the same thing," he replied in a slightly washed out voice that suggested he had been drinking again.

"I'm not the one sitting in the dirt holding my ankle."

He exhaled in annoyance. "I'm glad for you."

Rolling my eyes, I squatted down. "What happened? Did you hurt yourself?"

The singer started laughing loudly. "No, I didn't hurt myself. Maia hurt me by leaving me. And in Paris, of all places.... The city of love. The irony!"

I ignored his statement. "And what about your ankle?"

"You can stop pretending you actually care about my well-being," he quoted me, averting his eyes from me. 

Barely noticeable, I shook my head. "All right. Have a good night then," I replied with a huffy undertone in my voice and stood up, making my way back to the Nightliner. 

"Rey, wait," I heard Ben's exasperated voice. I stopped, but did not turn to face him. "I'm sorry... I-I fell over on the way here."

Taking a deep breath, I turned on my heel and rejoined the black-haired man who was still sitting on the floor. 

"Does it hurt much?", I wanted to know from him. 

He nodded wordlessly. 

"Let me see."

Ben followed my instruction and pushed back the fabric of his black jeans so I could get a look at the exposed skin of his ankle. 

"May I?", I asked cautiously, making moves to place my hands on the affected area. 

He nodded again. 

I frowned. "The ankle is definitely swollen and needs urgent cooling. Can you get up?"

"I don't know," he replied, and in the same breath launched an attempt to stand up; but unsuccessfully, because he fell back into the dirt not a second later. 

"Shit," the black-haired one cursed, ruffling his hair. 

"Do you want me to help you? I can try to prop you up."

A harsh laugh escaped his mouth. "You can't be serious, can you? I'm way too heavy for a petite woman like you, who'd rather smoke cigarettes than exercise to boot."

For some reason, his words hit me much harder than usual today. And that, although he had phrased them harmlessly and truthfully. 

"I can't very well leave you here, can I?", I brought out through clenched teeth. 

"Can't you get someone?" he nagged. 

I rolled my eyes again. "Like who? I'm the only one who gave up going to the bar and stayed on the bus."

"Son of a bitch," Ben hissed, burying his fingertips in the ground. 

Without another word, I dropped to the ground beside him so I could grab his arm and wrap it around my shoulders. 

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to help you now. It's at least worth a try," I said, making a move to stand up. 

Ben gritted his teeth to stifle a painful groan before he let me pull him up and meanwhile supported himself on his intact leg. His weight was so heavy on my shoulders that I almost went down again with the black-haired one. 

But I pulled myself together and continued to put one foot in front of the other. 

"Let go of me, Rey. I don't want to hurt you again."  
  
I squeezed the pent-up air out of my lungs so I could answer him. "I'm fine," I replied, out of breath. 

Ben tried to pull away from me. 

"Okay, okay. Let's take a short break," I finally relented and carefully got down on my knees to set him down before taking a seat next to him and gasping for air. 

I wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on my forehead during the last few yards with the back of my hand and tried to ignore my knees shaking with exertion. 

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I breathed. 

"Is your chin actually better by now?" he demanded to know. 

"Yes. I'm barely in pain anymore, and thankfully it doesn't look too bad."

"And why didn't you go with the others then?" the singer inquired. 

I shrugged my shoulders. "I just didn't feel like it, I guess. How come you didn't go?"

"Ditto. Besides, the others aren't too fond of me right now," he answered my question. 

"Are you surprised?"

He shook his head. 

For a while, neither of us said anything until I finally spoke up. "You should stop acting like a selfish person. A breakup is anything but nice, but it's not your friends' fault or your fans' fault."

"That's just what I am. An asshole."

"I don't believe you," I said, shaking my head. 

Ben gave me an expectant look; his eyes twinkled menacingly. "Oh yeah, and what does that make me? Enlighten me."

I shifted my position so that I was sitting cross-legged across from the black-haired man and looked at him for several seconds before finally giving an answer to his question. "In my eyes, you are a lonely musician hiding behind a mask. Behind a mask that you have painstakingly built up over the years and at one point christened Kylo Ren to hide and protect the real you, which is sensitive, gentle, and accommodating, from the world... so that all of this can't be used against you someday."

His lips opened a crack and I could hear him gasp. 

"Maybe I'm wrong, too. However, I firmly believe that there is a good core somewhere in everyone. You just have to decide when to bring it out," I added, shrugging my shoulders. 

"What makes you think that, Miss Niima?"

The way he emphasized my last name made goosebumps form on all parts of my body once again. 

"I saw it," I whispered before swallowing hard. "You're using your anger and this intangible aggression as protection, even though that's the wrong way to go."

He propped his hands on the earthy ground so he could lean back a little and look up at the sky. 

A few minutes passed before he spoke up. 

"I haven't always been like this," he indicated meekly. "You have to grow a thick skin over time for this business."

I gave him a questioning look, whereupon he stood up and patted the dirt off his pants. 

"About a year ago, after our first sold-out concert in Miami, I went to a hotel bar with my girlfriend at the time to celebrate a little. We sat down at the bar, ordered drinks and talked for hours. At some point, I left the room briefly to go to the bathroom. And when I came back, I had to watch how a strange man touched and harassed my girlfriend against her will. That was the first time I got physical in public. And before I knew it, I had my first criminal record."

Speechless, I stared at the black-haired man.   
The incident he had just told me about was familiar to me because I had read an article about it. However, in this article it had not been mentioned with a word that Ben wanted to protect his girlfriend from a sexual assault and had hit the man for this reason. 

I swallowed. "I'm... I'm sorry about that."

He shrugged and smoothed out the fabric of his jeans. "Don't be sorry about that."

"Why not? You were trying to protect another human being from a threat and you ended up being the one who got punished for it. That doesn't even begin to meet the definition of justice for me," I contradicted him, plucking at a blade of grass sticking out of the ground in front of me. 

Ben laughed. "The music industry is anything but fair, Rey."

I raised an eyebrow. "Then why don't you just stop? Why do you keep taking on this burden?"

"You know... Being a world star comes with a lot of downsides. You're followed at every turn, subjected to stressful and pressured situations almost constantly. The media spreads rumors, there's a lot of talk. Sometimes I would just like to end my career and leave public life behind forever. But when I'm on stage and see my fans who can sing along to every one of my songs, I remember what I'm doing all this for. Because I want to reach out to other people with my lyrics and let them know that they are not alone. That there is someone out there who feels just as lost. I want to give them hope. And when I can see exactly this hope in the eyes of the audience, I know again that it's worth it," he said in such an honest tone that tears involuntarily formed in the corners of my eyes. 

His eyes connected with mine. "Miss Niima...you're not going to cry now, are you?"

Spasmodically, I tried to swallow the lump that had just formed in my throat. "No."

Being a very sensitive person by nature and finding the statements Ben had just made with so much passion and honesty in his voice incredibly beautiful, I was increasingly losing control of my emotions. 

But it was not only the words that had driven me to my emotional limit, but the entire situation: how we sat together in the darkness on the dirty floor and began to open up more and more to each other; he hurt, I weakened.   
And then I felt the first tear make its way down my cheek. 

"You lied to me," he smiled, reaching out his hand to intercept the tiny drop of water. Carefully, he stroked the spot with his big thumb and made sure the tear disappeared. 

Another followed, knowing that this was not the only lie I had told him.   
He wiped this one away with his thumb as well, while placing his free hand on the back of my neck; our eyes were still locked together. His gaze was so penetrating that for a moment I thought he was really going to be able to look into my soul. 

The black-haired man leaned forward so that his face hovered close to mine. I felt his warm breath on my skin and began to smell the alcohol this brought.

"I am truly sorry that I have hardly missed an opportunity to put you down since we first met," he whispered, wanting to lean his forehead against mine.

However, I flinched back before he could put his intention into action, causing his grip to loosen instantly. 

Ben looked at me a little surprised; the distance between us was now a little wider again. 

"W-we should move on now. Your ankle needs to be cooled as soon as possible and we've lost way too much time already. Not that you won't be able to perform for the next few days because of it," I breathed barely audibly, sliding to his right side so I could wrap my left arm around my shoulders again. 

"Y-yes. You're right," he replied in an equally calm tone. 

With difficulty, we managed to stand up and move with slow steps in the direction of the Nightliner. 

As often before, an uncomfortable silence settled over us again. We both seemed to be lost in our own thoughts, wondering what this brief and intimate moment between us was all about.   
I cleared my throat at some point to ease the tense mood a bit again. "By the way, I've messed up before, too. Very big mess, in fact."

Ben looked at me from the side with a questioning expression. 

"I read a lot of articles on important topics like feminism and equality. One of those articles, which I really thought was incredibly good, has been blasted by a critic. He hasn't brought forth any arguments as to why the article isn't good in his eyes. Instead, he has complained almost exclusively that the way the article was written is not objective because it was written by a woman," I told the story in a modified version so as not to blow my cover and then interrupted myself for a brief moment so that I could gasp for air and get my breathing under control. 

The black-haired one's eyes were still intently on me. 

"And then I got into a low-level Twitter discussion with that idiot that escalated to the point where I escaped being charged with libel by a hair," I sighed, avoiding his intense gaze. "So you're not the only one who sometimes lets his feelings get the best of him." 

The singer said nothing, which is why my gaze almost automatically flew back to him. I tried to detect from his expression any reaction to what I had just told him; unsuccessfully. 

I swallowed and was about to add something else when he suddenly gave me a smile. "I've noticed that you tend to have a big mouth sometimes and don't let it get you down easily, but I really didn't expect this."

I bit my lower lip before replying, "I told you before that I'm always good for a surprise."

"That's true," he agreed, barely noticeably stroking my arm with his hand, causing a shiver to run down my spine. "Thank you for sharing that story with me. At least now I know I'm not alone."

Looking into his eyes again, I suddenly felt so safe. "And neither am I."


	13. Chapter 13

_Ben examined me with his brown eyes. We were closer than we had ever been before. "I'm truly sorry that I've hardly missed an opportunity to put you down since we first met," he whispered, raising his hand to brush a strand of hair from my face before leaning his forehead against mine._

_A little caught off guard, I gasped. "Ben," I brought out with effort, convulsively trying to ignore the loud pounding of my heart._

_"Rey," the black-haired musician breathed my name, suddenly closing the distance between us even more so that the tip of his nose gently touched mine and I could feel his hot breath on my lips. "You're driving me crazy. So crazy... do you actually know that?"_

_Before I could give him an answer, he placed his lips on mine._

With a gasp, I snapped out of my sleep and took a moment to get my bearings. 

Then I vigorously ran my fingers through my disheveled hair, which was sticking out in all directions, before wiping the beads of sweat from my forehead and taking a few deep breaths in and out. 

I had been dreaming about him again. 

The off-day had been several days ago, but the events had burned themselves deep into my mind. Ben's brown eyes had burned into my soul. So much so that it still felt like the whole thing had happened just yesterday.

I swallowed and pushed aside the curtain covering the window of my bunk a little so I could get a look outside. The sun was just about to rise, bathing everything in a golden light, which is why I leaned back and paused for a moment before finally pulling my notebook and laptop from under my pillow with a resigned sigh. I guarded the two items almost as if they were my children; the fear was too great that they would fall into the wrong hands and consequently the entire action would be exposed. 

Instantly, the guilty conscience began to spread through me again, which is why I had to swallow again. After that, I tried to suppress the fact that I was lying to all the people I was currently dealing with, as I had done so many times before, and concentrate on continuing my article. 

But Ben's brown eyes kept creeping into my thoughts. 

I had avoided the black-haired one as much as possible in the last few days to avoid further situations like the one in Paris. Something like that couldn't happen again. I remembered my dream. Something like this could not happen again. 

Now not only his brown iris, but also the musician's face appeared in front of my inner eye. 

"Get out of my head," I gritted out as quietly as I could, ruffling my hair in frustration. 

But of course, he didn't disappear from my mind. 

Disgruntled, I folded both the notebook and the laptop shut and decided to stretch my legs a bit to clear my head. 

After all, I still had a few hours before I had to become a roadie again and lay cables. Before I would meet him again and creep around him with reddened cheeks and lowered head; hoping that he would not speak to me or even look at me. 

After a quick glance in my pocket mirror, I opened the door of the bus and jumped outside. There the warm air hit me, although the sun was still not quite above the horizon. 

When I had taken a few steps away from the tour bus, I paused for a moment and let the huge concrete buildings take their effect on me. The San Siro stadium in Milan was by far the most massive I had ever seen. I couldn't even remotely imagine what it must look like inside. "You'll see it with your own eyes later, Rey," I muttered with a smirk on my lips and turned on my heel. 

Hurriedly, so that I wouldn't run into anyone, I left the large parking lot where our bus had been parked. Before I left, however, I carefully checked to make sure that I had packed the key transponder that would later bring me back onto the premises. 

When I felt the button-shaped key between my fingers, which had been placed along with many others on the largest table in the tour bus, I breathed in the fresh morning air with relief, left the parking lot behind me, and surveyed my surroundings. 

The streets of Milan already seemed to be bustling with activity, because although the San Siro stadium was surrounded by a green area at least as large, I could hear the distant roar of traffic all too clearly. 

After a while I finally came to a halt in front of a bench, on which I dropped like a wet sack. The work of the last few days was clearly noticeable not only in my arms, but also in my legs. In the meantime, the sore muscles had subsided a bit, but my joints still hurt. 

The situation reminded me of the encounter with Ben in Cardiff and I prayed fervently that he had not chosen the same park as me again today by chance in order to exercise. 

Sighing, I reached for my cell phone and risked a glance at the display.   
Lauren had already written me several messages a few hours ago telling me that she missed me and that work was no fun without me, which gave her the perfect template to remind me again of the importance of my article. 

I typed a quick reply, writing that I missed her, too, and that I was working diligently on my cover story. 

Just as I was about to put my phone away again, another message appeared on the screen. My mother had written to me again. With a lump in my throat, I pressed the message and let my eyes glide over the lines.  
  
Rey, my darling! 

You won't believe what happened. The old movie theater that you loved so much as a child has been renovated and will soon celebrate its reopening. Maybe we can go see a movie there when you're here again sometime. Just like in the old days. Your father and I would love that!   
How is work going? I hope you are doing well.

Love

I cleared my throat and tried to ignore the uncomfortable tugging in my upper body while I frantically thought about what to reply to her message. After all, except for the brief exchange of messages at the airport, we hadn't really spoken in ages.   
My fingers flew over the display, but I kept deleting the sentences shortly after I had finished them because I simply didn't know what to write. 

Since I was still a hopeless mess after all, which is why I let my cell phone slide back into my pants pocket, I snuggled against the back of the bench for a few minutes and closed my eyes. I couldn't let myself get distracted. I had to pull myself together because, after all, my future as a journalist was on the line. 

After I had talked myself out of the endless thoughts in my head, I finally made my way back. 

I didn't want to take any chances that Ben would actually run into me.  
  
With quick steps I headed for the massive stadium. Not much had happened on the grounds; only a few members of the crew were already awake and already unloading. Since I felt that I would not get much further with my article even now - despite the halfway clear head - since my muse had left me, I decided instead to jump quickly under the shower and then to help the others already once with the construction. 

When I entered the stadium for the first time a short time later together with Yelena and Kurt, the sight took my breath away. An infinite number of chairs lined up on the stands and the tiers, while the interior, which was divided into two parts by a small walkway, seemed larger than my own apartment. 

"Pinch me, please. Just to make sure I'm not dreaming," Yelena brought out. 

Kurt didn't need to be told twice and stretched out his arm to comply with the blonde's command, who then winced and let out an indignant, "Ouch! Not so hard, though!" 

The two began to engage each other in a discussion that involved more sarcasm than anything else before they finally got down to business, depositing the giant cable drums on the stage. 

"Sick," I muttered before joining my two colleagues.   
The day seemed to fly by and before I knew it, it was time for sound check. 

"Can you bring me a new battery for Ben's microphone for a minute?", I was asked by Yelena.   
Ben. 

Ben, Ben, Ben. 

I saw his brown eyes in front of me again, boring into my own. 

"Rey?" echoed the blonde, who was still kneeling on the stage, untangling the large tangle of cables that was directly in front of her. She raised an eyebrow and gave me a wait-and-see look. "Is everything okay?"

I nodded frantically. "Y-yes. The battery will be right out," I replied, running across the stage with such quick steps that I almost tripped again and fell into the ditch by a hair. 

"Damn it," I cursed as I rummaged through the box of batteries, trying to calm my racing heart. 

"Swearing kind of doesn't suit you."

His voice froze me and simultaneously sent goosebumps over all parts of my body. I bit my lower lip and swallowed hard before slowly turning around. 

Brown met brown. 

"I beg to differ," I replied almost a little bitingly, to which the black-haired one raised his arms defensively and began to laugh. 

"I almost figured you'd be richly uninterested in my opinion. After all, you're still smoking, even though I've already informed you about the negative effects many times."He paused for a moment. "And yet I wanted to share them with you. Because I once read that the penetrating repetition of certain opinions and statements can actually have an effect over time."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but the time from which I give a damn about your opinions, you will unfortunately never see," I snorted and turned away from the black-haired in the same breath to go back on stage and hand the battery to Yelena. 

But before I could put my plan into action, Ben's arm suddenly appeared in front of me. He was propping himself up against one of the scaffolds to which some lights had been attached for the lighting spectacle during the show, and he leaned down toward me with a smug grin on his lips.  
  
"We'll see about that."

Then he removed his arm and walked onto the stage without another word. 

Intimidated and caught off guard at the same time, I stared after him with wide eyes, pausing in my movement until Yelena appeared in front of me and took the charged battery from my hand with a sigh. "Thanks for the battery, Rey." Noticing the look on my face, she added, "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Swallowing, I waved it off. "I'm fine. And sorry about the battery," I brought out with difficulty. 

The blonde gave me a questioning look. "Are you sure? You've been kind of...weird for the last couple of days. weird," she replied, sounding almost a little worried. 

"It's really all right, don't worry about it." I put my hand on the blonde-haired girl's shoulder and gave her a more or less forced smile. "I'm just a little exhausted. That's all," I persisted after meeting her skeptical gaze. 

"Okay," she finally conceded defeat. "But you can always come to me if there's something on your mind, Rey."

"I'm very grateful to you for that, Yelena. The same goes for you," I replied, pulling her into my arms so she couldn't see that a few tears had pooled in the corners of my eyes. I exhaled barely noticeably and tried convulsively to ignore the unpleasant burning sensation. 

The guilty conscience seemed to be gradually eating me up from the inside. 

I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. Until Yelena ended our embrace and said goodbye with the words "I have to prepare the microphone so that the band can start the sound check". The fact that I had shed a tear or two went blissfully unnoticed. 

I wiped my eyes with my fingertips and inwardly admonished myself to pull myself together. 

Not a second later, the rest of the band suddenly appeared and climbed the steps to the stage at lightning speed. Jack threw me an attentive smile as he passed, before grabbing his instrument and joining the others who had already started the first song. 

I still hadn't moved, and just as I was about to turn away from the stage, Ben's voice rang out. 

As if struck by lightning, I stopped what I was doing and let my eyes fly to the black-haired man who was clutching the microphone with his painted fingernails and warbling the first song from the setlist. 

It didn't matter how much effort I put into averting my gaze and getting the hell out of there, because I was mesmerized. I stared right at Ben and only managed to tear my eyes away from him when he caught my gaze.  
  
Caught off guard, I quickly looked away and pretended to check that the lights were flashing in the right rhythm. If Yelena hadn't joined me a short time later, I probably would have long since disappeared into the tour bus to bury myself under my blanket and let loose one curse after another.   
When the sound check was finally over after what felt like an eternity, I took my legs in my hands and disappeared from the stage area as quickly as possible. I didn't give Ben a second glance; the fear that our eyes would connect again had been too great. 

But I was not to get off that easily. 

"Rey," the black-haired man's voice suddenly sounded from behind me; he had nipped close to my heels. 

I pretended to have overheard him and at the same time quickened my pace. 

"Rey," he called a second time. And then his fingers wrapped around my arm to stop me from continuing to run away from him. 

I winced. 

"Do I have something on my face?" he asked. 

My eyebrows met in the middle. "What?", I replied confused, looking straight into his brown eyes.

"I asked you if I had anything on my face." He cleared his throat as a triumphant smile graced his lips. "Because you were staring at me like that during soundcheck," the black-haired one continued to speak.   
His hand still rested on my arm. 

"I wasn't staring at you," was the only thing I replied to his statement. My heart was already starting to beat so fast again that it almost felt like I had run a marathon. 

"Yes, you did."

I gritted my teeth. "No."

"Yes, you did, I saw it clearly, Rey. And when you noticed I caught your gaze, you pretended to control the lights."

"Imagination is also an education, Ben. Now could you please let go of me? I'm busy."

"Doing what? Do you want to keep undressing me with your gaze?" he teased. "Admit it. You like me, Rey."

I gasped. "Damn it, Ben, the world doesn't revolve around you. I've never liked you, don't like you now, and never will. I can't help it if you don't want that in your head, because otherwise every woman will be at your feet," I hissed, jerking free from his grip.

The smile that had been on his lips until a few seconds ago faded.

"Just let me do my work in peace," I added, beginning to detect a spark of hurt in his features, but it immediately turned into a mixture of disappointment and anger. 

"And I thought that after what happened in Paris, we were finally on the right track."

I turned my back on him and started moving. 

"I guess I was wrong," he called after me so loudly that several crew members turned to look at us; big question marks adorned their faces. 

Without looking back even once, I made my way out of the stadium and headed straight for the tour bus, which was thankfully yawning empty. 

Most of them were probably already on their way to the catering. 

With my heart pounding, I huddled under the covers in my bunk and began to cry involuntarily. I didn't even know why I was crying; whether it was because of the countless lies I was telling everyone or because I had unjustly hurt Ben with my words. 

Sniffling, I fished my cell phone out of my pocket. Before I could think about what I was doing, my fingers flew across the screen and dialed a phone number. A phone number I hadn't dialed in far too long. 

_"Isabelle Niima speaking,"_ my mother's voice rang out. 

"Mom," I brought out. 

_"Rey?"_ There was confusion in her voice. _"Why... Is everything okay?"_

"Mom," I repeated the word again before an uncontrolled sob suddenly escaped my mouth. 

_"Are you crying? Rey... please talk to me. What's wrong?"_

I swallowed hard before giving her an answer. "Mom, I fucked up."


	14. Chapter 14

The Berlin weather perfectly reflected my current mood: gloomy clouds, gusts of wind, and one rain shower after another. 

Sighing, I began to undo the Velcro that held together the connecting cables for the instruments and the amplifiers. I was so lost in my thoughts that at first I didn't even notice how the whole tangle of cables slipped out of my hands and hit the stage floor with a thud. 

Yelena's eyes met mine. 

I avoided her green eyes and dropped to my knees to untangle the cables. 

"Okay...you're going to tell me what's going on right now. You've been acting incredibly weird for the past few days and I'm really starting to worry about you." I wanted to retort something, but Yelena literally took the words out of my mouth. "And don't give me that it's because of the physical exertion and all the stress."

I swallowed.

"Is it because of Ben? You haven't said a word to each other since Milan. Since your fight, which I only got wind of through Kurt and Paul. Why didn't you tell me?" she continued speaking after a few seconds, also crouching down and crossing her arms in front of her chest almost reproachfully. 

A thick lump instantly began to form in my throat. I knew that our argument had not gone unnoticed because we had fought it right backstage. But I hadn't counted on it spreading like wildfire within the crew and even getting through to Yelena. 

I swallowed again. 

"We weren't fighting. We had a little... Disagreement," I replied hesitantly.

Yelena rolled her eyes. "I don't know how little disagreements work for you, but according to the others, you were more or less yelling at each other. You don't have to pretend with me, Rey. Why don't you just talk to me and tell me what's going on?"  
The blonde looked so hurt that for a moment I actually considered pouring my heart out to her and revealing the whole truth. But the moment passed as quickly as it had come. 

Nervously, I began to play with the cables I still held in my hands. "I'm sorry, Yelena."

She put her hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong, Rey?" she asked her question again. 

"I...", I stammered, searching handily for any credible reason for my behavior. 

Yelena's waiting gaze was still on me. "Yes?"

I took one deep breath and exhaled before speaking up again and giving her the only believable excuse I could think of on the fly. "I think I've fallen for with Ben."

The blonde-haired girl stared at me in disbelief. "You're kidding, right?" she began to giggle. However, when she noticed that I didn't join in her laughter, she sucked in a sharp breath, widened her eyes, and subsequently pressed a hand over her mouth. "Please tell me you're pulling my leg."

Shaking my head, I avoided her gaze. 

"Wow. That... I was really expecting anything, but definitely not this."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't understand how that could happen either."

"How did you know? Did you tell him? Is that what you guys were fighting about?" the questions just bubbled out of her. 

"Excuse me? No way," I hissed a little too loudly, which is why the other crew members' eyes flew to us for a moment. When they turned away from us again and continued their work, I took the floor in a calmer tone of voice: "On our off-day in Paris, I did skip the bar visit in the evening because I was so tired. Before I went to bed, though, I went for a walk and ran into Ben. He was drunk and had hurt his ankle, so he couldn't really perform... so I propped him up on the way back to the tour bus and ended up more or less fixing him up."

Yelena was literally hanging on my lips. "So what?"

"I don't know either. Somehow there was a moment between us that night that made me suddenly see him in a completely different light," I said, shrugging my shoulders again. 

"So why were you fighting when you had just been on a good path?"

Her words reminded me of his, which is why an uncomfortable tugging sensation made itself felt in my upper body. 

I looked her straight in the eye. "Is the question serious? Yelena... you've noticed what he's like. I want to have as little to do with him as possible. And when I told him exactly that, he freaked out because he just can't handle the fact that there's actually someone who can resist him."

Yelena wrapped me in her arms. "I'm sorry about that. But why didn't you tell me that from the start?"

"Because I didn't want to believe it myself." The sentence slipped from my lips so quickly that I subsequently held my breath and began to wonder if there wasn't a spark of truth behind my excuse. With a barely noticeable shake of my head, however, I immediately dismissed this thought and apologized to Yelena once again for not telling her the truth right away.

"So what's next?" the blonde wanted to know from me, to which I shrugged my shoulders. 

"I guess we'll continue to ignore each other."

She sighed. "Well, let's hope that this whole thing won't have too negative an effect on Ben's mood and that we won't have to go through a situation like the one at the concert in Paris again."

I waved it off. "I wouldn't worry about that. He'll get over his bruised ego," I muttered, refocusing on the tangle of cables in front of me. 

Yelena cleared her throat. "I wouldn't be so sure about that." 

Seeing my puzzled expression, she nodded barely noticeably to the right. I followed her gaze and looked Ben straight in his brown eyes, eyeing me disparagingly. I tensed my jaw. The black-haired one opened his mouth to say something, but then let it stay and gave me the cold shoulder instead.  
I sighed and let the air pent up with tension escape from my lungs. The blonde furrowed her eyebrows before getting back to work. 

While I unknotted the cables and grudgingly wondered how it could be that I had to untangle them anew each time despite the Velcro, I kept feeling Ben's icy gaze falling on my back. 

At the catering this time, I sat down at a table furthest away from the band to avoid Ben's gaze. 

Only when we entered the room did our eyes meet once and I recognized a spark of hurt and disappointment in them again before he turned away and started a conversation with Jack, who gave me a brief smile. 

After dinner, I wanted to make my way to the tour bus so I could finally continue working on my article. But Kurt threw a wrench in the works by assigning me the task of tuning Ben's replacement guitar, since his current guitar had been misfiring frequently during sound check. 

I assured him that I would take care of it right away and stomped a bit annoyed towards the backstage area. 

There, it took me a while to discover the guitar cases, because there were so many boxes and other items piled on top of each other. 

Sighing, I looked for a seat, unpacked the guitar and the tuner and started to go about my task. 

What at first was annoyance gradually turned into a feeling of nostalgia.

A small smile involuntarily began to curl my lips as I felt transported back to my days in the school band. How often had I sat with my friends at the time and rehearsed various songs for the few events at school that we were allowed to perform at. Although the stage we had always stood on had not even been a real stage, we had been incredibly happy each time we were allowed to enter it and blast our music to those in attendance.

I paused in my movement and began to wonder if I could still manage any of the songs we had played at every single performance. 

With a searching glance, I checked to make sure I was still alone.   
Then I sat up straight, adjusted the guitar strap, and carefully let my fingers glide over the strings. There were a few off-key notes at first, but after a few tries, the melody of Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin was clearly recognizable. 

With a grin on my lips, I shook my head. "It's been a long time...", I mumbled, before I finally finished my playing and checked once again if the guitar was really tuned correctly. 

Following that, I stood up and moved towards the stage to place it there at the side so that Ben's main guitar could be replaced without much delay, should the worst happen.

As I ran around the corner and headed for the stage door, I almost collided with Ben, who flinched at least as startled as I was. A lump immediately began to form in my throat. Had he heard me playing? I swallowed, praying inwardly that he had just gotten here and hadn't noticed my little concert. 

"Sorry," I brought out with difficulty and immediately made a beeline for the black-haired one to avoid any kind of further communication with him. 

"Led Zeppelin, huh?", I heard his voice behind me, accompanied by soft footsteps. 

Rooted to the spot, I stopped and knew even without turning around that he had come to a stop close behind me. I held my breath and swallowed nervously. 

"You know... I don't like it when others play my guitar," he breathed in my ear. His hot breath hitting the back of my neck caused goosebumps to cover my body like an invisible blanket.

"I-I...", I stammered, searching almost a little desperately for the right words. 

Ben did not move an inch away from me; rather the opposite. He came closer and closer. So close that I could feel not only his hair on my cheek, but also his skin. We were closer than we had ever been before. I wanted to gasp, but instead bit my lower lip. At that moment, I didn't even dare to breathe. 

We remained in this position for a few more seconds before the spook was suddenly over. and the black-haired one put a greater distance between us again. "However, I must admit that it kind of suits you," he gave me still on the way and finally left me alone in front of the stage door.   
Taken off guard and speechless at the same time, I remained standing in place for another few minutes, reviewing what had just happened.

The lump was still deep in my throat and I couldn't swallow it even when the bands went on stage that night and I was standing with Yelena, Kurt and the others at the side watching the beginning concert.

During the third song, I noticed that one of the lamps hanging above us was wobbling a bit every now and then. Without hesitation, I pointed out my discovery to Kurt, who, along with a couple of other crew members, immediately took care of fixing the problem. Paul, along with two others, brought in a large ladder, which was placed directly under the lamp, which was fortunately far enough to the side that the raucous audience didn't notice much of our action. 

At first I watched Kurt climbing the rungs of the ladder, but then my attention was drawn to Ben, who was the only member of the band to be illuminated by a spotlight. A piano playing could be heard in the background, which caused a shiver to run down my spine. After a few seconds, the lead singer of The First Order began more or less reciting a spoken text to the tune, which was about inner demons and related emotions. 

"Demons. Pain. Lust. Despair. Always. We are always in search for demons, despair, pain, lust. Even love, luck and destiny." 

He paused briefly before looking in my direction. "But most of it all we are searching for someone special whose demons play along well with our own."

I blinked to make sure I wasn't the one he was looking at. That he was looking past me, or even through me. But his brown eyes were staring straight at me. So intensely that my heartbeat quickened and I involuntarily stumbled backwards a few steps. 

And then suddenly everything happened so fast. 

I heard Yelena's sharp cry and Kurt calling my name at such a volume that it was surely heard throughout the stadium. 

I didn't know what had happened. I only knew that Ben was running towards me. 

And in the next moment, a loud thud sounded and I found myself on the ground.

Startled, I stared into Ben's wide-open eyes, which were close above me. Screeching fans could be heard in the background, mingling with the panicked shouts of the other crew members. 

"What happened?", I gasped. 

The black-haired one let a finger slide over my temple. "Are you all right?" he replied, barely audible, ignoring my question. His peppermint-scented breath hit my face. 

I answered his question with a cautious nod.

The hint of a smile appeared on his lips after a few seconds before he placed his hands on the floor to the left and right of me and pushed himself up with an ease so he could stand. I straightened up as well, but remained seated. "You're welcome, Niima," the black-haired one said, winking at me before returning to his microphone and continuing as if nothing had happened. 

Yelena was the first to drop to the floor next to me. "Rey, are you okay?"  
  
As if paralyzed, I let my gaze slide to her and nodded with presence of mind. She pulled me tightly into her arms and only then did I realize what had actually happened. 

The lamp had fallen and the impact had scattered it in several pieces across the stage. 

Countless tears dripped from Yelena's eyes, increasingly soaking my top. "Oh my god, Rey. If it wasn't for Ben..." she sobbed softly.

I swallowed and tried to ignore the burning inside me. "I know."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rather short Chapter but it was needed to continue the story. Enjoy! <3

Even though the shock from Berlin was still deep in my bones, I went back to work the very next morning, laying cables on the stage of the King Baudouin Stadium in Brussels. I had to face my fear - otherwise it would swallow me up. However, I couldn't refrain from glancing in the direction of the lighting every few seconds to check whether all the lamps were still in their places. 

In between, I kept squinting at my phone until I saw a message from my mother flashing up. 

After attaching the last cable, I examined my surroundings before finally retreating to the backstage area and unlocking my cell phone. 

_How's work going_ , I could tell from the text message.

I sighed. 

The message also could have been from Lauren or Jane Parker. The only difference between my best friend, my boss and my mother was that the first two named were simply giving me hell to make a scandalous cover story out of the adventure I'd been calling my life for nearly two weeks. In the meantime, however, my mother had tried to talk me into my conscience during our phone call so that I would come clean and blow the whole thing wide open. 

She had tried to convince me that Yelena, Kurt, Jack, Nat and the others would surely forgive me if I told them the truth and for a moment I even believed her. I wanted to believe her. But deep down, I knew they would ostracize me or even loathe me. And rightly so - especially after the things Jack and Ben had confided in me about the press.

Ben.

I gulped. Not only would he ostracize me and loathe me.... he would hate me. 

And after that thought, the moment had passed as quickly as it had the day before in Berlin. 

Afterwards I had tried for almost twenty minutes to make my mother understand that there was no turning back, because I had already spun myself too deeply in my lies. That by telling the truth I would not only lose my newfound friends, but also my job. By lying, I lost my friends, but I still had a chance to save my job. 

_"At what cost? No job in the world is worth giving up your humanity, Rey"_ , my mother's voice echoed through my head. 

Although I sensed she was right, I repeated my fears again. 

_"Who do you want to convince with your words? Me or yourself?"_ , had been the last question she had asked me on the subject.

After that we only talked about trivial things and she emphasized very often that I absolutely had to visit her and my father again sometime. After giving her my word, I looked for an excuse to end the conversation. 

Still regretting the phone call, I continued to demonize myself for the moment of weakness when I had reached for my cell phone and dialed her number. Why had I dragged her into all this drama? Why hadn't I just dialed Lauren's number instead? After all, I had had much more contact with my best friend than with my parents. 

_Why?_

Tensed, I took my lower lip between my teeth and chewed on it until the taste of iron spread through my mouth. 

"Rey?", I heard Yelena's voice in the distance. 

Quick-witted, I looked up and straight into her brown eyes. 

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?", the blonde asked with a worried undertone in her voice. 

I nodded and tried to give her a smile. 

She looked at me hesitantly and seemed to be searching for the right words before she finally cleared her throat after a few seconds and started to speak. "Bad news... the spare lamps we have with us all either don't fit in the kit or won't connect with the others because they're too old." She rolled her eyes and muttered, "I really wonder who came up with the glorious idea of bringing outdated lamps." After a meaningful look, she added, "Anyway, we need to get a new lamp, which luckily for us even is in stock and I was going to ask you if you wanted to come."

When I didn't reply, she ran her hand through her hair in embarrassment. "I know buying a new lamp might not be the best distraction after yesterday's action.... But at least it's a distraction. The store is in the middle of town and I've heard that the Belgian fries are the best fries in the whole world."

Her statement actually made me laugh, which also brought a smile to Yelena's lips. 

"I can't pass that up, of course," I said, putting my phone away. 

"Great. Then I'll tell Kurt we can hit the road." 

As I nipped at Yelena's heels, the guilty conscience piled up in the back of my mind again. I heard my mother's words again and annihilated them with my own. At some point, guilt towards my best friend for not getting back to her in days also mixed in. If I actually had bags from Chanel and Gucci, they would probably already be in ruins. 

It was only the fresh air that helped me to ventilate my brain and get rid of the thoughts at least for a short time. 

The walk to the city center was relatively short, as the stadium was quite close to the center, unlike the ones we had seen on previous tour dates. On the way, I was grilled by Kurt about my well-being. So long, until we finally stood in front of the music store. 

"I'll get the lamp. Will you take care of the fries?"

"Nothing better than that," the blonde-haired one answered his question and hooked up with me and started moving again, looking for a suitable snack bar. 

After a few meters we already found it. 

While Yelena stood in line and typed on her cell phone, lost in thought, I excused myself from my friend with the words "I'm going to get a chai latte" and headed for a small café on the corner of the pedestrian zone. 

Fortunately, I had caught a convenient time, which is why I didn't have to wait too long for my coffee. 

When I left the café and wanted to go towards the blonde, who still seemed to be standing in the same spot, I was suddenly jostled from the side; so hard that the cup tipped and eventually even slipped from my fingers, spilling its contents on my top. 

I was about to let out a curse, since it was pretty much impossible that the person hadn't seen me, but when my gaze met that of the person who had caused it, the curses stuck in my throat. 

"You’ve got to be kidding me", I muttered instead. 

"Miss Niima," I was greeted by Ben, who was hiding his black hair with the help of his hoodie. As in our first encounter on the subway, he was now wearing dark sunglasses so large that they almost covered half of his face. Behind him I recognized the silhouettes of the other members of the band, who hadn't even noticed the incident and were analyzing the pedestrian zone with their gazes. 

"Damn," I said quietly, dropping the empty cup into the trash can, which was fortunately right next to me, before examining the large coffee stain on my white top. Today, of all days, I had set out wearing only a T-shirt because the weather had looked quite promising. Fortunately, the coffee stain was a relatively large piece under my chest, so I didn't have to worry that something could be seen through the wetness that definitely shouldn't be seen.

Before I knew what was happening to me, Ben suddenly began to take off his leather jacket. "You really seem to attract bad luck," he stated with a smirk and held the black jacket under my nose.

Instead of accepting it, I just stood there staring at him with wide eyes. That is, until he spoke up again. "What is it?"

I frowned and barely noticeably shook my head. "Nothing," I finally said and reached out to take the jacket in my hands, which was at least five sizes too big and weighed so heavily on my shoulders that I began to wonder how the singer could walk around with it all day. 

"And now I'm going to buy you a new coffee."

The black-haired one started moving so fast that I couldn't contradict him and had no choice but to follow him. 

"Why are you doing this?", I blurted out as we joined the short queue. 

"Who knows how long you'll be with us," he joked, shrugging his shoulders. "The amount of bad luck that follows you around will still put you in the grave eventually. Yesterday, for example, was one of those times."

I swallowed. 

"Actually… _I_ should buy _you_ a coffee and not the other way around," I muttered.

The black-haired one waved it off. "This is the second coffee you can't drink because of me. And I have a lot to make up for...although I wasn't the one acting like a jerk backstage."

I tried to ignore his jibes and carefully considered my next words. "I'm serious. I don't even know how to ever thank you for reacting so quickly and saving me from that lamp," I brought out with difficulty, trying to ignore the rising burn in my eyes caused by the memories of yesterday's incident. 

Before I knew it, Ben ordered and paid for my coffee and subsequently pressed it into my hand so firmly that our fingers touched for a moment. 

"The sight of you in my jacket is enough for now," he said with a mischievous grin on his lips and I knew, even without really seeing it, that he was winking at me from under his black sunglasses. 

It wasn't until I felt his rough thumb on my index finger that I realized our hands were still touching. 

I fought my pounding heart and forced myself to take my eyes off the black-haired man, who not a second later withdrew his hand and left the café. I did the same and caught sight of the rest of the band outside, who seemed to be on the lookout for their singer. It wasn't long before they spotted the black-haired one and me as well. 

Jack was the first to arrive. 

"Where have you been?" he demanded to know from Ben before his gaze fell on me. "Hi Rey." The brown-haired man began to eye me; something about my appearance seemed to bother him. And I knew, even without thinking about it, that it was Ben's leather jacket. 

The addressed man cleared his throat. "I bought our roadie a new chai latte because she preferred drawing coffee patterns on fabric instead of drinking it. Again. Only this time I've been spared, for once," he answered the bassist, nodding in my direction and grinning. 

Jack swallowed his actual answer and turned away from Ben so he could look at me. "What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be taking it easy after yesterday?"

"Yelena, Kurt and I are here to buy a new lamp, since the replacement lamps all either don't fit the set or aren't compatible with the other lamps. While Kurt wanted to take care of the lamp, Yelena and I got in line for a snack. But because I got ravenous for a chai latte, I quickly went to a café. And that's when it happened," I said, pushing Ben's jacket aside a bit. 

Before any further misfortune could happen, I drank the chai latte in two sips and threw the empty cup - like the other one before it - into the trash can. 

Shortly after, Yelena and Kurt suddenly appeared in front of us. 

Kurt carefully placed a huge backpack, presumably containing the new lamp, on the floor and began eating his fries before being engaged in conversation by the band regarding the new lamp. 

Yelena, on the other hand, was still balancing two bags of fries in her hands and didn't hesitate for a second to hand me one of them while she eyed me with a curious look that also held a spark of surprise. "Rey...have you been shopping?"

I knew she was alluding to the leather jacket. And I also knew that Ben was standing next to me with his ears perked up, waiting for my answer. 

"You could say that," I agreed, scratching the back of my head sheepishly. 

The blonde's eyebrows met in the middle. "Okay," she returned, confused, looking back and forth between Ben and me before finally turning her attention to her fries. 

I did the same and knew, even without looking at the black-haired man still standing next to me, that he was smiling.


End file.
